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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



') 



SERMONS. 



» 



■ SERMONS, 



PREACHED IN 



INDIANA-PLACE CHAPEL, BOSTON, 




BOSTON: 

WALKER, WISE, AND COMPANY, 
245, Washington Stseet. 

1864. 



1 \^ 



Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1864, by 
WALKER, WISE, AND COMPANY, 
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 



BOSTON: 
PRINTED BY JOHN WILSON AND SON, 
5, Watek Stkeet. 



PREFACE. 



These Sermons, having been mostly written in the 
course of the last three years, during the great 
American conflict of freedom against slavery, are 
necessarily frequent in allusions to this war. Sur- 
rounded with those whose sons, brothers, and friends 
were fighting and falling on so many bloody fields, 
this dark background is seen behind the figures in 
each discourse. 

I suppose that repetition of ideas and thoughts may 
be sometimes noticed by the reader. Such repetition 
is a defect in works of pure theory or intellectual 
science; but, in practical and spiritual works, we 
need, as in music, frequent variations on the same 
^hemes. 

It only remains to say, that these Sermons are affec- 
tionately inscribed to the Church of the Disciples, in 
whose service they have all been preached. 

JAMES FREEMAN CLARKE. 

May 19, 1864. 



CONTENTS. 



SERMON I. 

Page. 

The Hour whioii cometii, and' now is 1 

II. 

The Letter and the Spirit 14 

III. 

Prophets who have been since the World began ... 29 

IV. 

Steps of Belief ' 42 

V. 

The Thorn in the Flesh 54 

VI. 

Faithful over a Few Things 67 

VII. 

Moral Perspectives 84 

VIII. 

" If he sleep, he shall do well " 97 

IX. 

Stand Still 112 

X. 

Grow up 130 



vi CONTENTS. 



XI. 

Page. 

Life Weariness 140 

XII. 

The Fragments 153 

XIII. 

All Souls are God's 169 

XIV. 

" The Accepted Time " . . 181 

XV. 

" When he came to Himself " 193 

XVI. 

The Cheerful Giver » 206 

XVII. 

The Grace of God 223 

XVIII. 

" No Man cared for my Soul " 237 

XIX. 

Life and the Resurrection 250 

XX. 

Power of the Keys 278 

XXI. 

The Proper and the Becoming 300 

XXII. 

The Favjorite Texts of Jesus 315 

XXIII. 

Diary of 1863 331 



■ 



SERMONS. 



L 

THE HOUR WHICH COMETH, AND NOW IS. 
John iv. 23 : " The houk cometh, and now is." 

THIS remarkable phrase is used twice by our Mas- 
ter, — once in regard to the true worship of the 
Father, which he declares to be coming, and to be 
already present ; and, again, in regard to those who are 
in their graves hearing his voice : they shall hear it, 
he says, and they hear it now. In somewhat the same 
way, he says of the harvest of faith which his disci- 
ples are to gather in, It will be harvest-time in four 
months, you say. Look ! I see the harvest ready to 
be gathered now. 

This blending of future and present is in the very 
nature of prophecy, which sees what is coming in 
what now is ; which sees the fruit in the flower, ttie 
flower in the bud; which sees the action to be in 
the motive which now is at work ; which perceives 
that an idea is potent enough to develop itself into a 
long series of actions ; which recognizes the antitype 
in its type ; and, in one lightning-flash of spiritual 

1 



2 THE HOUR WHICH COMETH, AND NOW IS. 



perception, sees a whole landscape leaping out of the 
darkness of the future into the momentary illumina- 
tion of the present. 

There is a future of which we know nothing till it 
has arrived : there is another future, which we know 
before it comes. Some things can be foreseen almost 
as if they were seen. Some things are here already, 
potentially, before they are here actually, — are here 
in their seeds and roots, before they are here in their 
fruits and results. " There is a field of grain/' says 
the farmer. " Grain ! " you reply. " I see nothing 
there : there is only black earth." — " Yes," the farm- 
er answers : " it is sown with grain." When the seed 
is there, the grain is virtually there. 

Therefore we celebrate the birthdays of great men, 
regarding each of them as the seed of a great future. 
We keep the 22d of February, and close our banks, 
fire cannon, listen to orations, because, on that day, a 
little child was born, in whose coming came the deli- 
verance of America from European vassalage. Fifty 
years passed from the birthday of the child before he 
did his work ; but we celebrate not the day when the 
work was done, but the day when the child was born 
to do it. The whole nation goes back to the cradle 
of George Washington, and says, " The hour comes, 
and now is, when America shall be free." So we 
celebrate Christmas, the birthday of Christ. So all 
Christendom goes, on that sacred morning, with the 
Eastern Magi, to offer its gifts of grateful love to 
the little unconscious infant. So, in Catholic prayer- 



THE HOUR WHICH COMETH, AND NOW IS. 3 

books to-day, we find prayers addressed to the infant 
Jesus ; that is, prayers to a purely ideal being, — to a 
being who does not exist : for surely there is no infant 
Jesus now ! Yet so clearly do we see that the essence 
of a great event is not in the thing done, but in the 
power which is to do it, that, when Christ is born, we 
regard Christianity as established. 

With the same ideal tendency, the same disposition 
to put the idea of a thing above the actual thing, we 
keep the 4th of July as the day of National Inde- 
pendence. But we did not become independent on 
the 4th of July, 1776 : we became independent not 
till some years after that. All that was done on the 
4th of July was the enunciation of the idea of inde- 
pendence. The purpose, the resolution, the determi- 
nation, were born that day : so we celebrate the birth 
of Independence on that day. 

There are some things, no doubt, which are not here 
till they are accomplished ; but other things are really 
here when they are begun. That which depends on 
outward circumstances, on contrivances, on outward 
force, or will, is not here till the circumstances take 
place. The discovery of America, the invention of 
printing, the landing of the Pilgrims, carry their 
chief importance in the events themselves, — not in 
the idea lying back of them. But every thing which 
depends on spiritual insight and moral purpose virtu- 
ally comes when the truth is seen and uttered, when 
the moral purpose is declared. When Martin Luther 
fixed his paper against the door of Wittenberg 



4 



THE HOUR WHICH COMETH, AND NOW IS. 



Cathedral on the Eve of All-Saints, 1517, the Reforma- 
tion came. We date the Reformation from that day ; 
not from the day when the reformers agreed upon 
their creed at Augsburg, in 1530. When the idea is 
born, the events flowing from that idea are born. 

In fact, there are certain truths which are so com- 
manding and convincing, that, when they are once 
seen and uttered, certain consequences are already 
logically certain. Such truths are so adapted to the 
human reason, conscience, and heart, that they must 
be accepted sooner or later. Such truths are mighty 
powers introduced into human affairs, which will pro- 
duce inevitable consequences. No matter what is 
the resistance of unbelief, the obstinacy of prejudice, 
the bitterness of opposing interests, the rage of party 
madness ; no matter what falsehood, calumny, slander, 
assail their champion, — these truths are mighty, and 
must prevail, though it may be, as the poet describes 
it, by means of — 

" A friendless conflict, lingering long 
Through weary day and weary year." 

The prophets of the Old Testament were men to 
whom God gave the favor of seeing the future in 
the present ; of seeing the hour which was coming, as 
if it were already arrived. Standing on the mount 
of vision, they overlooked the large panorama of the 
future ; they saw the waving forests near at hand, 
the blue valleys below, the fields farther on waving 
with grain, the rivers winding like lines of light 
through the distance, the pale sea on the horizon, the 



THE HOUR WHICH COMETH, AND NOW IS. 5 

faint mountain-lines far away. They saw in the prin- 
ciples and motives, in the ambitions and purposes, 
already at work, the results that must inevitably fol- 
low. Not by any mere political sagacity, which is a 
very short-sighted affair, but by that spiritual insight 
which sees the real beneath the accidental, the inevi- 
table law working amid all varying circumstances, 
the prophets saw, in grief and anguish of heart, the 
national woes which were to come from national sins, 
and the restoration which would follow national re- 
pentance. They saw more still : they saw, in all the 
mysterious workings of events, the preparation for 
a higher revelation of truth and love. They saw in 
the whole Jewish law the preparation for a gospel 
higher than the law ; in all the Jewish ritual, the pre- 
paration for a worship of truth and love. They saw 
the coming of the Son of man; the approach of — 

" That far-off, divine event, 
To which the whole creation tends." 

Some kind of prophetic sight akin to this supports 
all great reformers, — all those who are struggling to 
establish spiritual ideas, moral principles. They see 
the thing they are to do almost as if it were already 
done. Trusting themselves to the simple power of 
truth, having faith in God and in the human heart, 
they feel strong enough to battle alone against a 
world. The Jesuit, who has made a great ecclesiasti- 
cal machine ; who has built up, cunningly, a system 
of checks and balances ; who has organized an army of 
monkish soldiers, which he wields in the cause of Ho- 



6 THE HOUR WHICH COMETH, AND NOW IS. 

ly Church ; who induces rich people to leave him their 
money, in order to save their souls ; who manages 
statesmen and kings through their confessors, and 
lays his hand on the colleges and schools of a nation 
in order to proselyte little children, — he has his hour 
too, but it is only the hour of success. When his 
plans fail, when his schemes are detected, when 
his cunning is baffled by a deeper sagacity, he has no 
resource. His failure is certain. But the man who 
trusts in truth never fails. Savonarola and Huss, on 
the scaffold and at the stake, were just as sure of 
victory as if they saw it present. We are no more 
certain now of the coming end of slavery than Follen 
and Channing were when they died ; though then 
slavery seemed triumphant. All these could say, 
" The hour cometh, and now is." All saw the future 
in the present. Touissant L'Ouverture, in his dun- 
geon, was more sure of the success of his cause than 
Napoleon of his. Wordsworth well said to him, — 

"Live, and take comfort. Thou hast left behind 
Powers that will work for thee, — air, earth, and skies. 
There's not a breathing of the common wind 
That will forget thee : thou hast great allies. 
Thy friends are exultations, agonies, 
And love, and man's unconquerable mind." 

When Jesus said, " The hour cometh, and now is, 
when the true worshippers shall worship the Father 
in spirit and in truth," he only on the surface of the 
earth knew what true worship was. Men worshipped 
God, as though he loved sacrifices ; as though he took 
pleasure in seeing his creatures torment themselves ; 



THE HOUR WHICH COMETH, AND NOW IS. 7 



as though he were far off, and could not easily 
hear; as though he were angry, and had to be ap- 
peased ; as though he loved to be praised ; as if he 
were capable of being teased, by much speaking, 
into consent ; as if a solemn form were agreeable to 
him. But Jesus saw in his heart that diviner wor- 
ship, the love of a child to its father and mother ; the 
trust of a weak creature in a perfectly wise, good, 
and great Being ; the confidence of a sinful creature 
in one all mercy and compassion ; the worship which 
does not need to speak in order to be heard ; which 
is the motion of a hidden fire that trembles in the 
breast ; that worship, which, when it comes, will 
make every place a church, every day the Lord's day, 
all work devotion, all joy thanksgiving, all events 
blessings, and all of nature and life full of God. 
Jesus, feeling this worship in his own soul, and know- 
ing its beauty, majesty, and power, saw that all other 
worship ; all of mere form, ceremony, ritual ; all of 
worship born of fear, anxiety, doubt; all prayer to 
which men are dragged by conscience or led by cus- 
tom, — must cease and determine, when this divine 
and heavenly worship is once known. So he said, 
" The hour cometh, and now is." 

And so, on the other occasion, when he said, The 
hour cometh, and now is, when all that are in their 
graves shall hear the voice of the Son of man, and 
come forth, to the resurrection of life or the resurrec- 
tion of judgment. Come out of their graves, — the 
graves of ignorance, error, sin ; out of the graves of 



8 



THE HOUR WHICH COMETH, AND NOW IS. 



selfishness, sensuality, falsehood ; out of the graves 
of worldliness, covetousness, cunning, and fraud, in 
which they have buried themselves. He saw that 
his Father would one day reach every soul ; in this 
world, or in the next world, or in some world, would 
reach every soul of man. He saw, that sooner or 
later, as long as in every man there is heart, reason, 
and conscience, the reason must at last see the truth, 
the conscience must feel it, the heart must love 
it. And so all in their graves shall hear his voice 
and come up, — the faithful to see their own faith- 
fulness rewarded with entrance into fuller life ; the 
unfaithful to be judged, to know at last the evil of 
their evil, and so take also the first step back toward 
good : therefore a resurrection, a rising-up, for all, — 
a rising-up of the good into love, a rising-up of the 
evil into truth. He saw that distant day as though 
already here, because he had once for all spoken the 
immortal truth, to which sooner or later every knee 
should bow, of things in heaven, and things on earth, 
and things under the earth. And so, dying on the 
cross ; disgraced, defeated, conquered ; forsaken by 
his friends, betrayed by his own disciples, leaving 
not one on earth who understood him, — he could say 
to his Father, " I have glorified thee on the earth ; I 
have finished the work thou gavest me to do." 

If he saw it then, surely we may see it now. If 
every one of the " glorious company of the apostles, 
the goodly fellowship of the prophets, and the noble 
army of martyrs," saw, each in his prison, at his 



THE HOUR WHICH COMETH, AND NOW IS. 9 

stake, in his lowly, thankless toil, amid hatred, perse- 
cution, and opposition, — saw the day of triumph com- 
ing, as though it had already come, — we surely can 
see the day of a purified Christianity, of a freed 
Church, of the marriage-supper of nature and revela- 
tion, reason and religion, works and faith, morality 
and piety. 

Yes, the hour cometh, and now is, when Christian 
doctrine shall be redeemed from the Jewish and 
Pagan errors which have clung to it, and so be 
brought back to the simplicity of Christ ; when men 
shall no more be taught to be afraid of God, as 
though he were angry, and had to be appeased by a 
bloody sacrifice ; no more be driven from their dear 
Father by Pagan doctrines concerning his need of 
some expiatory victim, before he can forgive his 
children. They will no more be taught that man is 
all corrupt and evil, — nothing but sin : they will 
be taught to see in every soul something good, 
something allied to God, some conscience, some 
heart, something of holy fire lingering under the 
ashes of vice and sin. The hour cometh, and 
now is, when men shall learn to respect human 
nature, and not despise it as wholly corrupt ; and 
then they will love each other. The hour cometh, 
and now is, when they will look on the vicious and 
the criminal with pity, not contempt, and try to help 
them out of their evil ; when those who have been 
abandoned, and left without any sympathy or bro- 
therly aid, shall be sought out and taught and 



10 THE HOUR WHICH COMETH, AND NOW IS. 

saved. Then the Christian Church, united by the 
holy spirit of humanity and brotherly love, will come 
together, and be at one ; the Catholic no longer 
hating the Protestant, nor the Orthodox despising 
the heretic, but all working together in the great 
cause of human improvement. That hour cometh, 

AND NOW IS. 

It is told of Michael Angelo, that, when he had 
spent two years in painting the frescoes on the ceiling 
of the Sistine Chapel, he had acquired such a habit 
of looking up, that he could not look down ; and, if he 
wished to read a letter, he had to hold it up above 
his forehead in order to see it. The Christian Church 
has placed Christianity so entirely in the worship ot 
God, who is over all, that it has lost the power of see- 
ing the same God, who is through all, and in us all. 
It only sees God above us, not God in nature around, 
not God in man's human soul. Its religion, therefore, 
has all gone into worship, into churches, into Sun- 
days. But the hour cometh, and now is, when 
Christianity is to be seen in the street, in the shop, 
in all human life, and God to be felt as " all in all." 

Certainly we may say, that the hour cometh, and 
now is, when a rational and humane religion shall take 
the place of a religion of form and dogma. Do we 
not see how every man, who preaches and teaches in 
any way this religion of love, takes hold of the hearts 
of all men, even those who seem the most rigid and 
the most closely imprisoned in their creeds ? See 
what a general respect and love have come around 



THE HOUR WHICH COMETH, AND NOW IS. 11 

the memory of Theodore Parker ! — not because of 
his opposition to the supernatural part of Christianity, 
but in spite of that opposition. It is because of his 
broad humanity, his generous love of truth, justice, 
and right. See how such men as Robertson in 
England, and Beecher in America, guide the hearts 
and the thoughts of tens of thousands, because they 
are prophets of this great future, — of the day when 
God and Christ shall be seen to be the friends of all 
human beings, and reason and revelation be wholly at 
one ! And see the universal expression of esteem and 
love which has risen from the whole land like a cloud 
of incense, honoring the heroic and generous soul of 
our own brother Starr King ! The " New- York Inde- 
pendent " forgets that he was a Unitarian and Univer- 
salist, and honors him with warm tears of affectionate 
sorrow. The Democratic papers forget that he was 
antislavery and Republican, and give the truest and 
best testimonies to his character and worth. It is 
because he was a youthful prophet and example of 
the hour which cometh, and now is ; of the future 
day of the Church and State ; of the religion of rea- 
son, justice, humanity ; of the Christ who is to come, 
and is already here. 

There are those, who, taking a literal view of Scrip- 
ture, teach that Jesus Christ is coming back to earth 
in some particular year, in outward form, and in some 
particular place. No doubt, he is coming. His hour 
cometh, and now is. He is coming more abundantly, 
just as he has come already, in a greater inspiration 



12 THE HOUR WHICH COMETH, AND NOW IS. 

of faith, a greater sense of the nearness of God, a 
greater love for God and man, a universal outflowing 
of humanity and brotherhood to all. That is the 
second coming of Christ, and the only second coming 
that has any significance or value to us. If he should 
come outwardly in the sky, with the noise of a trumpet 
and a great light, that would be only a portent, a won- 
der, — something to excite astonishment, fear, admi- 
ration ; but it would not make a single man any more 
of a Christian than he is now. That was the sort of 
sign which the Jews wanted, and of which Christ 
said, " An evil and adulterous generation seeketh 
after a sign ; and there shall no sign be given them 
but that of the Prophet Jonah." 

Jesus comes as his truth comes, as his love comes. 
He comes with his Father to dwell in us, and we in 
him. As he comes so, every knee bows. Sin is 
conquered. The last enemy, death, is overcome. 
Christ comes to redeem us from the power of all evil. 
Then heaven cometh, and now is. Then, God's will 
being done on earth as it is in heaven, heaven begins 
here. It is here already in its seeds and roots ; and 
we have the foretaste of the world to come, the first- 
fruits of a higher life, while we are yet dwelling in 
this. 

And so, lastly, we realize that death is nothing; 
that we are already immortal ; that the hour of im- 
mortal life cometh, and now is. Death ceases to 
exist to a Christian. He looks forward to the time 
when he shall fall asleep, and wake again, surrounded 



THE HOUR WHICH COMETH, AND NOW IS. 13 

by all whom he loves, and who love him ; by the spirits 
of the just made perfect; and shall fiod the truth of 
what Plato and Milton said, — that what we call life is 
death, and what we call death is life. For Plato says 
in a striking passage in his Gorgias, " I should not 
wonder if Euripides spoke truth when he said, 1 Who 
knows if to live is not really to die, and to die really 
to live ; and that we now are, in reality, dead ? Our 
present existence is perhaps our death, and this body 
our tomb.' " And so Milton says, — 

" Meekly thou didst resign this earthly load 
Of death, called life, which us from life doth sever." 

That which Plato and Euripides thought possible, 
Jesus saw to be real ; and so he said, " He who liveth 
and believeth in me shall never die." So he always 
called death sleep ; so his disciples said that he had 
abolished, annihilated death ; so he took away its 
terror out of their hearts ; and they felt, that though 
to live was to be with him, yet to die was to gain 
more than they lost. 

Thus it is that immortality and heaven are coming, 
because they are already here. Thus it is that true 
worship, pure Christianity, humane religion, are sure 
to come in their full and ripe harvest, because they 
are already here in their seed and germ. So it is, 
that the living experience and the deep convictions 
of the human heart are always a sure word of pro- 
phecy of the glory which is to be revealed ; and the 
life which comes now from God and Christ is the 
promise and assurance of the life which is to come 
hereafter. 



II. 



THE LETTEE AND THE SPIRIT. 



2 Cor. iii. 6 : " Who also hath made us able ministers of the 

NEW COVENANT : NOT OF THE LETTER, BUT OF THE SPIRIT ; 
FOR THE LETTER KILLETH, BUT THE SPIRIT GIVETH LIFE." 

Rom. ii. 28, 29 : " He is not a jew which is one outwardly : 

BUT HE IS A JEW WHICH IS ONE INWARDLY ; IN THE SPIRIT, 
AND NOT IN THE LETTER; WHOSE PRAISE IS NOT OF MEN, BUT 
OF GOD." 



HE chief distinction between man and man, in 



J- any pursuit or occupation, is this, — that the 
one sees the spirit of a thing, and works in that; 
the other, only the letter, and sticks in that. 

For in every thing there is a spirit and a letter. 
It is not merely in the Bible, but everywhere. 
Every thing which exists, exists literally and spiritu- 
ally ; in its form and its essence ; in its body and its 



For example : Suppose a man should undertake to 
describe a landscape, — a scene in the White Moun- 
tains, or in the heart of the Mississippi Valley. He 
might give you the height and position of the moun- 
tains ; state accurately the size of the trees, and the 
position of every thing in the foreground, the middle 




soul. 



THE LETTER AND THE SPIRIT. 



15 



distance, and beyond: but he would not give you 
any tiling, after all, but a number of details. Another 
man, with a few suggestive words, would place you 
in the scene itself. You would feel the majestic 
presence of the mountain, with its varying shades of 
sombre, dusky green, or its purple tints melting into 
aerial blue. You would feel the air stirring among 
the great multitude of leaves, and waking the deep 
silence of the forest. You would feel the life of the 
great sycamores, reaching out their white arms over 
the lazy streams. The one description, though per- 
fectly accurate, would awaken no interest, suggest 
no picture, and be forgotten in an hour : the other 
would fill your imagination with the presence of 
Nature herself; and years after, when it came up to 
you, you would scarcely know whether it was some 
place you had heard described, or some place where 
you had been yourself. The one gave you the let- 
ter of the scene ; the other, its spirit. I recollect 
several such descriptions which I read in childhood ; 
and they seem like something I have seen. Some of 
Walter Scott's descriptions are of that kind. Shak- 
speare's are all so. Take, for example, his descrip- 
tion of a brook : — 

" The current that with gentle murmur glides, 
Thou know'st, being stopt, impatiently doth rage ; 
But, when his fair course is not hindered, 
He makes sweet music with the enamelled stones, 
Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge 
He overtaketh in his pilgrimage : 
And so, by many winding nooks, he strays, 
With willing sport, to the wild ocean." 



16 



THE LETTER AND THE SPIRIT. 



The peculiarity of this description is, that the brook 
is alive all through : it " glides gently ; " it " rages 
impatiently ; 11 it kisses the sedge ; it is a pilgrim, 
straying with willing sport to the ocean, which is also 
alive and " wild," untamed by man. So Milton, so 
Wordsworth, so Tennyson, so all great poets, describe 
Nature ; not as in an auctioneer's catalogue, or as on 
a surveyor's map, but discovering everywhere its 
soul. Milton describes the sun, — 

" Who, scarce uprisen, 
With wheels yet hovering o'er the ocean-hrim, 
Shot parallel to the earth his dewy ray ; " 

which gives you an image of Apollo in his car. But 
he describes the same sunrise elsewhere by making 
him a king : — 

"Right against the eastern gate, 
Where the great sun begins his state, 
Robed in flowers and amber light." 

And so he makes the moon a traveller through the 
sky,— 

" Like one that had been led astray 
Through the heaven's wide pathless way ; 
And oft, as if her head she bowed, 
Stooping through a fleecy cloud." 

It is not the chemistry of Nature, which is its letter, 
not the proportions of silex and alumina in the land- 
scape, which touch us most, and are most valuable : 
but the soul of Nature, the glory and beauty which 
no tongue can describe, which poetry only can sug- 
gest, never catalogue ; the soul of peace, of har- 
mony ; the soul which seems almost to speak to us, — 



THE LETTER AND THE SPIRIT. 



17 



this is what brings us near to God, and gives the out- 
ward world its highest value. Neither the Greeks 
nor the Jews saw much of this soul in Nature. 
Christianity has enabled us to feel it, and has created 
in us the power by which, in modern times and in 
modern poetry, man and Nature come into commu- 
nion and harmony. This is a part of the atoning 
work of Christ, — to make man at one with Nature 
around him. Nature was terrible to the Old World, 
— full of a demoniac spirit. Lucretius traces all 
Pagan religion to a fear of natural portents. Chris- 
tianity has reconciled man and Nature, and made us 
fdel that she is our mother and our friend. 

So, in every man, there is the letter and the spirit. 
You can describe him by enumerating his actions, 
and giving his phrenological tendencies, — so much 
conscientiousness, so much reverence, so much com- 
bativeness ; but a deeper sagacity goes below all 
this, and finds the man's soul, that which gives unity 
to his life. Love is more sagacious still : it feels, by 
a sure instinct, the inmost character, and is wiser 
than wisdom. You cannot know any one till you love 
him ; because, till then, you only know him externally r 
the secret of his life you do not know. We feel that 
no one understands us who does not love us : for 
beneath all our actions and all our opinions, all our 
outward life and character, there is the inward stress 
and tendency of our nature, our aspiration, our long- 
ing, our struggle ; which is so deep down, that no 
one knows it unless by sympathy. 

2 



18 



THE LETTER AND THE SPIRIT. 



Look at two portraits : one gives the features ; the 
other, the soul. One is after the letter ; the other, 
after the spirit. In one, you have the outside of the 
man, — his husk, his shell, the mask, he wears : in 
the other, there is a revelation of his inmost nature. 
The last is the only kind of portrait of a friend I ever 
care to have. 

I recollect very well the first time I ever saw those 
wonderful portraits, by the great masters of art, which 
thus give us the soul of the man they paint. I 
recollect a picture of Ignatius Loyola, by Rubens, at 
Warwick Castle ; one of G-rotius, by Rembrandt, at the 
Bodleian Library in Oxford ; one by Titian, at Hamp- 
ton Court. It seemed as if I could never see enough 
of them. I went on, and returned again to look 
more and more. In these pictures, there was told the 
whole history of the man's life, — all its stormy ad- 
venture, all its earnest longing ; agonies of thought, 
patiently endured ; the soul refined by fires of suffer- 
ing, by infinite toil, until, at last, it had reached the 
summit of self-possession and peace. I had supposed, 
till then, that portrait-painting was an inferior domain 
of art ; but, after seeing such revelations of character 
accomplished by portraits, I felt there was nothing 
higher. 

And so, when we come to truth, we see how this 
also has a letter and a spirit. The letter of Judaism, 
says the apostle, was its rites, its sabbath, its sacri- 
fices, its priesthood, its temple. That was all of 
Judaism that the Greeks and Romans saw, — all that 



THE LETTER AND THE SPIRIT. 



19 



the scribes and Pharisees saw. But Paul says, " He 
is not a Jew who is one outwardly ; neither is cir- 
cumcision that which is outward in the flesh : but he 
is a Jew who is one inwardly ; and circumcision is of 
the heart, in the spirit, and not in the letter." So- 
crates was a better Jew, in this sense, than Caiaphas : 
Seneca was a better Jew than Herod. 

But it took clear insight and strong courage to say 
this. " What ! this great system of ceremonies, this 
great sacramental and sacrificial system, which Jeho- 
vah had instituted, in order to separate the Jews 
from all mankind, — is this all nothing? and only the 
inward spirit, that no one can tell any thing about, — 
is that every thing ? This is doing away with all 
distinctions, this sort of transcendental talk ! " Con- 
ceive what the Pharisees must have thought of it. 

The old covenant had its spirit and its letter, and 
the letter was only for the sake of the spirit. The 
spirit of the Old Testament is its constant sense of 
one God, supreme, eternal, all holy, all good ; who 
requires of man justice and mercy; whose law for- 
bids all wrong from man to man ; protects the feeble, 
the poor, the stranger, and looks forward to the 
triumph of good over evil, truth over falsehood ; fore- 
sees a perfect world to come at last, in which there 
shall be no more oppression, cruelty, or sin ; in which 
all shall know God, from the least to the greatest. 

That is the spirit of the Old Testament, from Gene- 
sis to Malachi, — a spirit of justice and faith. AH the 
rest is its letter. Just as God surrounds the juicy. 



20 



THE LETTER AND THE SPIRIT. 



fruit of the palm with a hard shell, and, outside of 
that, with a fibrous husk, so that the milky pulp shall 
slowly sweeten and ripen till the time comes for the 
nut to fall, and then the husk is torn off, and the shell 
broken ; so he surrounded the immature convictions 
of the Jewish nation with this hard shell of ceremony, 
this tough husk of sacrifices, meats, and sabbaths. 
It kept them to themselves. It placed an element of 
mutual aversion between the Jew and the Gentile. 
So the inward spirit ripened slowly, from the days 
of Moses, when the nation was almost Egyptian and 
Pagan ; through the times, of Elijah, when they wor- 
shipped the stately idols of their Syrian neighbors, the 
sun-god Baal, and "Astarte's bediamonded crescent; " 
on through their Assyrian and Babylonish captivities, 
when they learned some truths from Persian Magi j 
on through the times of Ezekiel and Zechariah. The 
prophetic Muse of David sang to his harp some melo- 
dious anticipations of Jesus ; and Isaiah, "rapt into 
future times," announced a religion of the spirit as 
above all forms. At last, the fulness of the time had 
come : the husk and shell of the Jewish religion 
were broken away, and the fruit ripened out of the 
law into the gospel. 

But if he is not a Jew who is one outwardly, much 
more, surely, he is not a Christian who is one out- 
wardly. If sacrifices and priesthood did not make 
Judaism, neither do baptism and church-going make 
Christianity. The new covenant also has its letter 
and its spirit ; and, when we stick in the letter, 



THE LETTER AND THE SPIRIT. 



21 



we lose the spirit. Paul says of the new covenant, 
" God hath made us able ministers, not of its letter, 
but of its spirit ; for the letter killeth, but the spirit 
giveth life." 

All the forms of Christianity are means, and not 
ends : we need them as helps, not as results. Going 
to church does not make a Christian. Being baptized 
does not make a Christian. Professing Christianity 
does not make a Christian. Only loving God and 
man makes a Christian. Yet there are many people 
and teachers who lay such stress on baptism and the 
Lord's Supper, and the letter of the Bible, that they 
really see less of the spirit of Christianity than Isaiah 
or David saw. A thousand years before Christ was 
born, David saw more of Christianity than those see 
who hesitate as to whether an infant can be saved 
who has not been baptized, or whether God can love 
a good heathen after he dies. Jesus, though a Jew, 
was less particular in keeping outwardly the Jewish 
sabbath than many Christians are in an outward keep- 
ing of what they call the Christian sabbath ; which is 
no sabbath at all, but the blessed day of our dear 
friend, in which the best thing we can do is to be 
loving and generous, thankful and good - natured, 
cheerful and happy. 

Truth has its letter and its spirit. Dogmatists and 
bigots lay all stress on the letter. They pack it up 
in certain words ; they string it on articles ; they 
lock it up in a chest of drawers which they call a 
creed ; they worship it in the text of the Bible. 



22 



THE LETTER AND THE SPIRIT. 



They say, " If you do not believe it just as we ex- 
press it, you shall, without doubt, be damned ever- 
lastingly." But truth cannot be kept in any forms : it 
is a conviction in the soul. You express it so to-day ; 
otherwise, to-morrow. 

Every doctrine has its' letter and its spirit. The 
letter of a doctrine is its logical meaning, or that 
which the words literally imply. The spirit of a doc- 
trine is that which is intended by those who hold it ; 
the deep conviction in their minds which they at- 
tempt to express thus, of which this is the outward 
symbol. For, as all language is imperfect, no verbal 
statement can ever adequately express the human 
thought. The best statement is only an approxima- 
tion. A doctrine, therefore, may be false in its letter, 
but true in its spirit ; false in what it says, true in 
what it tries to say. 

No doubt, there was truth in this sense in all the 
great doctrines which have been held by large multi- 
tudes during long periods. The letter of the Trinity 
is false ; but the spirit of the Trinity seems to have 
been the desire to unite the different views of the 
Deity held by the Jew, the Greek, the philosopher, 
and the child. While the Jew had seen the unity of 
God and his holiness in revelation, the Greek had 
seen his wisdom and power in nature, and the philo- 
sopher had found God also in the instincts of his soul. 
All these different convictions were felt to have some 
substantial reality, and the doctrine of the Trinity 
grew out of an attempt to unite them in a single 
statement. 



THE LETTER AND THE SPIRIT. 



23 



The attempt has not been successful ; but its spirit 
was sound, and, in some form or other, may yet be 
found also true in the letter. 

But we should do an equal injustice to Paganism, 
if we regarded only its letter, and forgot its spirit. 
The spirit of Paganism is that which the Apostle Paul 
described in his noble speech at Athens, when he told 
the Greeks that they already worshipped, though 
ignorantly, the true God. The spirit of Paganism is 
feeling after God in nature ; trying to find Him who 
is not far from any one of us ; having vague irrepres- 
sible longings after an infinite truth and beauty. 

Christian missionaries, who go to convert the 
Heathen, are often moved by seeing the profound 
earnestness of their devotion. They feel that there 
is a substantial truth in all these religions in the midst 
of their formal errors. The poet Schiller has well 
expressed this truth in the play of " Wallenstein," 
where Max speaks of the belief of the great duke in 
astrology : — 

" Oh ! never rudely will I blame his faith 
In the might of stars and ange*ls. 'Tis not merely 
The human being's pride that peoples space 
With life and mystical predominance ; 
Since likewise for the stricken heart of love 
This visible nature and this common world 
Is all too narrow : yea, a deeper import 
Lurks in the legend told my infant years 
Than lies upon that truth we live to learn." 

Mr. Coleridge was once a Unitarian, afterward a 
Trinitarian; but he did ten times more for Liberal 



24 



THE LETTER AND THE SPIRIT. 



Christianity after he became a Trinitarian than he did 
before. He taught the Orthodox Church one great 
idea, which has penetrated it through and through, — 
that truth is not a statement of opinion ; that faith is 
one thing, belief another ; and that no man is ever 
saved by a doctrine, but only by an insight. So that 
now it has become all but impossible for any Protes- 
tant teacher, however Orthodox, to believe that any 
one will be damned for disbelieving a creed. As long 
as truth was confounded with belief, people could 
think so : now they cannot. The whole system of 
Orthodoxy is saturated throughout by this doctrine. 
It is like the ice on the river in the spring. It is 
floating there still, a foot thick, and seems solid ice : 
but it is water-soaked ; and, one morning, it will 
sink, and be all gone. For all men have now come 
to see, more or less distinctly, that truth has its 
letter and its spirit ; and that the letter kills, while 
the spirit alone gives life. 

So also with morality. It, too, has its letter and 
spirit. There is a logical morality, which says, " This 
is right, and that is wrong ; " but back of all that is the 
spirit, the motive, the aim, which makes a thing right 
or wrong. " Is it wrong to lie ? " Certainly, we an- 
swer. " Is it wrong to commit sacrilege ? " Surely. 
" Is it wrong to assassinate ? " No doubt. " But I," 
says Jacobi, " am that atheist, that godless person : 
yes, I am that wretch who would lie, as the dying 
Desdemona lied ; deceive as Pylades, when he pre- 
tended to be Orestes, that he might die in his stead ; 



THE LETTER AND THE SPIRIT. 



25 



commit sacrilege as David, when he ate the show- 
bread ; be an assassin like Brutus, and a sabbath- 
breaker like the disciples, who plucked ears of corn, 
because they were hungry, and because law was 
made for man, and not man for the law." 

The letter of morality kills : the spirit of morality, 
which is the love of right, the love of truth, an in- 
ward truthfulness of soul, a fidelity to one's own 
highest nature, an aspiration after whatever things 
are pure and lovely and noble, — this it is which fills 
the soul through and through, at once with magnani- 
mity and humility, at once with courage and modesty; 
makes us faithful without pedantry, and holy without 
cant and pretence. 

This, then, we Say, is the chief difference between 
man and man. Some people, in whatever they do, fol- 
low dead routine ; others, a living law : some see only 
what is customary; others see always what is needed : 
some are bound fast to what is usual and what is 
proper ; others are made free by the sight of what 
is beautiful and good. 

No man is a master in any work till he works ac- 
cording to the spirit. A man cannot be an able 
mechanic if he is a man of routine. The able me- 
chanic is one whose mind is wide awake, and who is 
open to the incoming spirit of discovery ; who is 
hoping to do better than he has done. So he makes 
a high art of any work. Such men as Stephenson 
and Bramah, Fulton, Ericsson, and Nasmyth, were 
.greater poets, and lived a more imaginative life, than 



26 



THE LETTER AND THE SPIRIT. 



the parrot poetasters who rhyme like Tupper or 
D obeli. The grimy workshop of these men is all 
transfigured with music, song, and ideal lyrics. 

Every occupation has those who follow it after the 
letter or after the spirit. The first do their best to 
kill their calling, and destroy all the respect that is 
felt for it in the minds of men : the other class ele- 
vate it, — give it dignity and worth. 

There is, for example, the physician after the letter, 
who follows blindly the traditions of his school, what- 
ever it may happen to be. He degrades his profes- 
sion, in the minds of men, by the way in which he 
uses the terrible instruments in his hands ; until at 
last men say, " Our chance of recovery is better with- 
out the doctor than with him." Thus the letter of 
medicine has killed medicine. 

Then there is the pedantic scholar, who lives 
among dead words ; who studies languages, not for 
the sake of the great literatures to which they are 
the portals, but for their own sake. Languages, 
being taught so, at last lose all their interest for 
the human mind ; and so young men study Latin 
and Greek for six or eight years, and end by 
not being able to read a Greek or Latin book. 
The letter of scholarship has killed scholarship. 
Teachers, thus teaching after the letter, invariably 
destroy all interest in the subject which they teach. 
Meantime, the teacher who teaches with enthusiasm, 
because he is interested in the substance and spirit 
of what he teaches, excites a like enthusiasm in the 



THE LETTER AND THE SPIRIT. 



27 



mind of the scholar. Every thing thus learned is 
remembered; and the whole subject, thus vitalized, 
is thoroughly and deeply known. 

During the last century, history was written ac- 
cording to the letter. Excellent, painstaking men col- 
lected all the facts, dates, and names belonging to a 
period, put them together, and called it all " history.' 7 
It was only dead annals. Who took any interest in 
these histories? Who cared for them? The letter 
of history had killed it. Then came historians in 
France like Michelet and Thierry ; in England, like 
Carlyle and Macaulay ; in America, like Bancroft and 
Motley. Then the curtain was lifted from before the 
Past. It came up before us with its tragedy and its 
tears. It was as when Eliphaz saw in his vision the 
spectral form : " In thoughts from the visions of the 
night, when deep sleep falleth on men, fear came upon 
me, and trembling. Then a spirit passed before my 
face." We saw men, like ourselves, on the stage where 
these great dramas were performed. We saw the wild, 
stormy promise of the French Eevolution, and its 
pathetic end. We saw the poor King of France flying 
under the dewy night to Varennes. From earlier 
centuries came forward the living forms of stern 
Keltic chiefs and Druid priests ; of Norman sea-kings, 
cruel and terrible ; Cromwell and Hampden, earnest 
Puritan deliverers of English liberty. The spirit had 
once more returned into history, and it was again 
alive. 

We see by these varied examples the truth of the 



28 



THE LETTER AND THE SPIRIT. 



apostle's statement, that the letter kills. We should 
hardly have ventured so bold a statement. "We might 
have said that the letter without the spirit was inade- 
quate. We might perhaps have gone further, and 
declared it useless. But to call it positively perni- 
cious ; to say that the letter of religion, of the Bible, 
of worship, kills religion, the Bible, and worship, — 
we should scarcely have ventured to do that. It 
would have seemed a dangerous statement. But an 
insight and experience like that of Paul enable one 
to say what would be thought dangerous by - one 
standing on a lower platform. Now that he has said 
it, we also can see it. In every thing, the letter 
kills, and the spirit makes alive. The mere letter of 
the Old Testament and the New Testament kills 
piety. The mere letter of morality kills goodness. 
The letter of our daily work kills our interest in life. 
Edmund Burke says, " There is an unremitted labor, 
when men exhaust their attention, burn out their 
candles, and are left in the dark." 

But when we are open to the spirit, and let that 
flow into all our work, thought, and life, then every t 
thing is once more vitalized ; then the Bible becomes 
a new book, full of intense interest ; nature is new, 
being full of God ; and man becomes a new creature, 
with a new heaven and a new earth. 



III. 



PKOPHETS WHO HAVE BEEN SINCE THE WORLD 
BEGAN. 

Luke i. 70 : " Prophets who have been since the world began." 

A PKOPHET is not merely one who foresees, who 



-lTL knows the future, who beholds events as they' 
draw near : he is this, and more. He is not merely 
one who rebukes a nation's sins. Prophets do that ; 
but that is not all they do. He is not merely one who 
teaches truth. The essential thing which makes him 
a prophet lies deeper than any of these partial defini- 
tions take us. A prophet is one who goes back of 
all traditions in religion to the original reality ; be- 
hind all creeds, to the primal insights out of which 
they grew ; beneath all expediency, to the creative 
law of justice and eternal right. This makes him a 
prophet ; this helps him to foresee ; this charges him 
full of noble indignation against all falsifiers of truth, 
and betrayers of justice. Such'men are naturally and 
necessarily the teachers of their race. They do not 
teach officially as a profession, but from the need of 
utterance. He who sees, must say what he sees. 
"We also believe, and therefore speak." 




30 



PROPHETS WHO HAVE BEEN 



The prophetic element, therefore, is not necessarily 
any thing miraculous or exceptional. The prophetic 
faculty is the natural, not the unnatural, condition of 
man. All men foresee and foretell in proportion as 
they have any manliness of soul, and force of intellect. 
Half of the conversation of every day turns upon 
what is to happen to-morrow. Farmers ask each other 
what sort of weather it will be the coming week. 
Merchants inquire what will be the condition of the 
market three months hence. Brokers foretell the ef- 
fect of such and such events on the money-market. 
No man lives, who does not constantly look forward 
to foresee and to foretell what is to come. People 
often make mistakes : but that does not prevent them 
from trying again ; for the instinct of the soul com- 
pels them to look forward. We may say, therefore, 
that prophecy is one of the natural faculties of the 
soul, just as much as reason or imagination. 

You think, perhaps, that I am confounding dif- 
ferent things, — natural sagacity, which foretells 
events by knowledge of the laws which produce 
them ; and spiritual foresight, born of inspiration, 
which foretells the events sent by God. But- is there 
such a distinction ? Are not all events sent by God ? 
Our Saviour blames the Jews because they could 
not foresee the spiritual events about to come, when 
they could foresee the weather to-day or to-morrow. 
" He said to the people, When ye see a cloud rise out 
of the west, ye say, There cometh a shower : and so 
it is. And, when ye see the south wind blow, ye say, 



SINCE THE WORLD BEGAN. 



31 



There will be heat ; and it cometh to pass. Ye 
hypocrites ! ye can discern the face of the sky and of 
the earth ; but how is it that ye do not discern this 
time ? " As though he had said ; " The same sagacity 
which, applied to temporal things, enables you to 
foresee earthly changes which are to come ; if applied 
to spiritual things, would enable you to foresee spirit- 
ual events which are to come." 

Jesus called them " hypocrites," because they pro- 
fessed to be the religious leaders of their nation, and 
yet had no such perception of coming religious events 
as they had of every-day affairs. It was their busi- 
ness to foresee the coming of the Christ, and to notice 
the signs of his coming; and they did not do it. 
This shows that they did not really care about it 
as they professed to care. Every one can foresee 
in his ow*. department of thought in which he is 
really interested. Napoleon could foresee just what 
his enemy would do, because he was interested in 
the game of war. Before he left Paris for his 
last campaign, which ended at Waterloo, he said, 
" Wellington lies with eighty thousand men in front 
of Brussels. Blucher lies with a hundred and twen- 
ty thousand Prussians on his left. These two armies 
are intended by their commanders to support each 
other, and their two wings to come together ; but 
they probably do not. Probably they have left a 
vacant space of four or five miles between them. 
I will throw my army into that space, and strike 
them separately, first one, then the other, before 



32 



PROPHETS WHO HAYE BEEN 



they can combine. " He found it exactly so. And 
half of his success in war lay in this power of 
military prophecy, by which he could throw himself, 
in imagination, into the position of his enemies, and 
so foretell exactly what they would do. Every man 
is thus a prophet in the things he cares for. Those 
who care most of all for religious truth, for the spirit- 
ual progress of mankind, for the advance of a great 
moral cause, can foresee in that direction, and are 
prophets to other men. Jesus therefore blamed the 
Pharisees, and justly, for not being prophets in reli- 
gion, when they could prophesy so easily in regard 
to common things. 

Therefore the Jewish prophets were not the first 
nor the last prophets in religion : there were prophets 
before them, so our text declares, — " prophets who 
have been since the world began.' 7 Not only all men, 
as we have said, have something of the prophetic 
element in them, but God has other prophets, mighty 
forelookers and foretellers, who have been since the 
world began. 

For example : Nature is " a prophet who has been 
since the world began." The facts of nature look 
forward to a result, as well as backward to a cause. 
Nature contains both the law and the prophets, — 
universal divine laws, yet these laws tending always 
to sure providential ends. 

I go in the spring to a seed-store, and I buy pack- 
ages of flower-seeds. They come from Germany. I 
open a package, and I find twelve little papers con- 



SINCE THE WORLD BEGAN. 



33 



taining twelve varieties of some flower, — asters, for 
example. There are a dozen little seeds in each 
paper. They look alike ; but I know, if I plant them 
apart, when they come up, each seed will produce its 
own flower, with its own color, — white or purple or 
scarlet, as the case may be. Each little seed is a 
prophet, foretelling what is to come out of it. Each 
seed, bearing fruit after its kind, has, since the world 
began, been a prophecy and promise to man, that, if 
the sowing does not fail in the spring, the harvest 
shall come in the autumn. 

Look at the human eye. Consider its wonderful 
formation, its lenses adapted to refract light, and 
bring it to a focus on the retina, yet without dispers- 
ing the ray. In the first human eye was a prophecy 
of all that the eye was to do, — a prediction and pro- 
mise of sunlight, moonlight, twilight, — of all the 
forms of beauty and wonder which cover the earth. 
When God made the eye, he foretold light ; he pre- 
dicted sun, moon, stars ; he announced the coming of 
beauty, grace, symmetry, — every glory of sunrise, 
every magnificence of evening. And, when God 
made the human hand, he foretold in its construction 
all it was to do, all the human arts which were to 
come from its use. 

All nature is strewn with prophecies, had we but 
intelligence to read them. The very form of the 
continents, with their seas, mountains, plains, foretells 
the course of human affairs. Geography foretells 
history. The great level plains of Central Asia fore- 

3 



34 



PROPHETS WHO HAVE BEEN 



told the nomad tribes of herdsmen and shepherds who 
were to wander over them. The great river-valley 
of the Nile foretold the civilization of Egypt. The 
indented coast of Greece foretold Hellenic culture. 
All nature looks forward to man, and foretells his 
coming and his destiny. 

So nature around us, and reason within us, have 
been prophets since the world began. Reason, allied 
to nature, foresees evermore. Great inventors and 
great discoverers have in them this element espe- 
cially, because their reason is fed by the knowledge 
of nature. In the Book of Samuel, we read that he 
who was afterward called a prophet, or foreteller, 
was originally called a seer, — one who sees. Sight 
leads to foresight. He who sees well can easily fore- 
see. Every great invention and discovery is a pro- 
phecy. Columbus foresaw America long before he 
set sail for it. Fulton foresaw his steamboat, and 
beheld it in vision sailing up the Hudson, against 
wind and tide, before the keel was laid. All great 
moral reformers are supported by the spirit of pro- 
phecy in their breasts. They rest secure on the 
eternal laws of God's government, and know cer- 
tainly, that, because God reigns, the right must tri- 
umph. What would Luther have done, standing 
alone against all Christendom, attacking a church 
which had governed Europe for a thousand years ; 
which had its thousands of priests and bishops in all 
lands, before which kings and emperors trembled; 
which held in its hand the knowledge, the wealth, 



SINCE THE WORLD BEGAN. 



35 



the power of Europe, — v how could he, a poor, lowly 
monk, venture on the audacity of attacking such an 
awful power, had not God in his heart given him to 
see that the eternal laws of truth and justice were on 
his side, and that, therefore, he must at last be con- 
queror ; whispering to his heart that his friends — 

" Were exaltations, agonies, 
And love, and man's unconquerable mind " 3 

All great souls, who have done any noble work in 
the world, have been supported by this divine power 
of prophecy within them. They have looked forward 
in hope, assured hope, to a future success, of which 
the present gave no signs. The true prophets of 
God have not been men of abstract thought or ab- 
stract piety ; but they have been the real workers,, 
the real moral and religious leaders and chiefs, who 
have lived by faith in a better future while doing the 
hard work of to-day. 

It is quite a mistake to suppose that the J ewish 
prophets were merely or essentially foretellers of the 
future, or writers of books : they were the great re- 
formers of their time, — men who lived in the midst 
of strife. The first, and perhaps grandest, of them 
all, after Moses, Samuel, was at once an heroic ruler 
and genera], and a wise statesman. He was the first 
who brought order out of anarchy. Till his time, 
the whole land was torn with petty guerilla war- 
fare. Some such state of things prevailed as in 
Mexico now. A succession of leaders had arisen; 
but they brought no order out of chaos. The reason 



36 



PROPHETS WHO HAVE BEEN 



was, that they were mere fighters, — captains, not 
prophets. " The word of the Lord," it is said, " was 
precious in these days: there was no open vision." 
The men of action were there, but not the men of 
deep religious thought, not the men of open vision. 
Then Samuel arose, a great statesman, a great com- 
mander, a great prophet, all in one ; an awful, majestic 
figure, who has come down to us through all these in- 
tervening centuries, surrounded with a strange halo of 
mystery and grandeur. He first united the elements 
of action, moral conviction, and spiritual insight. He 
was the first of the long line of Hebrew prophets ; 
all of whom, like him, were more men of action than 
of devotion. They fought against the evils of their 
hour, — Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel, and, greatest of 
them all, Elijah ; they rebuked kings and people, 
.and stood up for justice and humanity in the midst 
of an evil generation. What gave them this power ? 
Not the belief of a creed, not any traditional reli- 
gion. No ; but the fresh and living sight of justice 
and truth with which God inspired their hearts. They 
•saw the right : they did not merely believe in it. 
They saw God : they did not merely reason him out 
by a chain of argument. They were seers, therefore 
they could be doers; for no man can do any noble 
thing but the man who sees something nobler, — 
even immortal and infinite truth. 

This leads me to another point. The lowest kind 
of prophecy is sagacity, based on observation of out- 
ward laws. It is thus that — 



SINCE THE WORLD BEGAN. 



37 



" Old experience doth attain 
To something of prophetic strain." 

But this is only the lower kind of prophecy. The 
higher and better prophecy comes not from the re- 
gion of the understanding, but from a deeper depth. 
The reason of man, indeed, as we have seen, has been 
a prophet since the world began. But God has had 
other, nobler, surer prophets of the future than the 
mere intellect. The conscience sees further than 
the understanding ; the heart is wiser than the head. 
These, also, have been God's prophets since the world 
began. 

Deep in the human breast, God has placed this 
solemn prophet, whom we name Conscience. He 
looks evermore at the eternal law of justice, deeper 
than any outward law : — 

" Which doth preserve the stars from wrong, 
And (by which) the most ancient heavens are fresh and strong." 

No man but hears its voice. It speaks to us of 
right that we ought to do, of wrong that we ought to 
resist. It foretells a judgment to come. It speaks 
of a sure retribution for all evil, sometime or other, 
somewhere or other. It is the sword of Damocles, 
hanging over the head of Louis Napoleon in the Tui- 
leries. It scared Herod when he thought of John 
the Baptist. It makes the weakest man strong who 
is acting from conscience. It frightened the slave- 
holders, who held the whole power of the nation in 
their hands, — Presidents, Congress, the Democratic 
party at the North, the whole bench of Judges, — and 



38 



PROPHETS WHO HAVE BEEN 



made them wish to hurry out of the Union, so as 
to escape the conscience of New England ; for they 
knew that this New-England conscience was stronger 
than they all. In it they foresaw — 

" The vanward cloud of evil days, 
With all their stored thunder, laboring up." 

For conscience always speaks as one having autho- 
rity. By the voice of Joan of Arc, from her burning 
scaffold, calling on Jesus, it frightened the soldiers 
into hysterics. It compelled Gov. Wise, looking on 
John Brown, to say that he was the bravest and most 
honest man he ever knew. From the prison of Jere- 
miah, its voice reached the ear of the King of Israel, 
and struck terror into his heart. From the cross of 
Christ, it seemed to darken the sky, and rend the 
graves, and raise the dead. It may be that truth is 
for ever on the scaffold, and wrong for ever on the 
throne ; but it is also true, that truth on the scaffold 
not only sways the future, but awes and terrifies 
the seemingly triumphant present. Almost before 
the ashes of Savonarola had been swept from the 
great square in Florence, Raphael was painting his 
serious face among the doctors of the Church in the 
frescoes of the Vatican.* 



* "At Borne, Raphael was the first who undertook his apotheosis 
by placing him among the most illustrious doctors of the Church in 
the dispute on the Holy Sacrament. Ten years had then elapsed 
since the death of Savonarola. Pope Julius II., who was worthy of 
appreciating such a genius, had succeeded Alexander Borgia on the 
pontifical throne ; and thus were terminated the scandals with which 



SINCE THE WORLD BEGAN. 



39 



The human heart, also, has been one of God's pro- 
phets since the world began. 

The heart, I just now said, has a deeper wisdom 
than the head. Its faith, its hope, and its love pre- 
dict and assure a better future than the mere intellect 
can foresee. Every thing that is greatly good in the 
world has been accomplished by the power of faith, 
not resting on outward evidence, but on the inward 
evidence of the heart. How has Christianity tri- 
umphed ? Not by its miracles. Our books teach us 
to believe in Christ because of his miracles ; but who 
really believes in Christ because of his miracles ? We 
believe in him because we love him. Love leads to 
knowledge. He " draws all men unto him." " His 
sheep hear his voice, and follow him." The head 
believes in God by means of argument: the heart 
sees him. "Blessed are the pure in heart; for they 
shall see God." The intellect reasons about immor- 
tality : the heart knows it. The intellect proves 
Christianity to be true. The heart of man, in all 
ages, feels the truth of that generous faith which 
brings God near to us as a Father ; which reveals man 
as a brother ; which restrains the tyrant, and breaks 



this infamous family had appalled Italy. The severe and despotic 
character of this pontiff will not allow us to suppose that Raphael 
would have ventured to place the portrait of Savonarola in one of the 
Stanze of the Vatican, unless the idea had been suggested to him by 
Julius himself, who, no doubt, preferred this kind of reparation, as 
affording the best guaranty for present publicity and future perpe- 
tuity." — Rio : Poetry of Christian Art. 



40 



PROPHETS WHO HAYE BEEN 



the fetters of the slave ; which supports the head of 
the feeble and sick, and opens heaven to the dying 
eye. 

Is it all an illusion, — this grand hope, born out of 
love ? Let us look at it. A desires a partner in busi- 
ness, and finds B. He exercises his best judgment 
in the selection ; he takes advice, and asks references, 
and inquires into his antecedents : yet B often turns 
out, after all, not the man he thought him to be. But, 
as long as two friends love each other, their love is 
a sure foundation for mutual trust. Love does not 
deceive. Love, which beareth all things, believeth all 
things, hopeth all things, endureth all things, is the 
one thing which never failetli. Nothing is so solid as 
love. It sometimes seems to be the only substantial 
thing there is in the universe. Perhaps it is so ; for 
God is love, and God alone has real self-existing 
being. We live from him, as we receive his love into 
our souls. 

Therefore is love also a true prophet. It foresees 
and foretells a better future. It looks through the 
darkness of the present, — through pain, disappoint- 
ment, trial, sorrow, bereavement, loneliness, — and sees 
all things working together for good. The true op- 
timism comes to us when we love. When we forget 
ourselves, and love others ; when we forget our self- 
ishness, and share in God's interest in mankind ; 
when we throw ourselves into life, and follow Christ in 
his trust in God, his hope for man, — then the heav- 
ens again smile. Then the day dawns peacefully, and 



SINCE THE WORLD BEGAN. 



41 



the night closes serenely. Then we look through all 
anxiety, and see good beyond. Then, when we lay 
our beloved in the damp grave, we have a hope full 
of immortality in our hearts. Mortality is swallowed 
up of life. Our faith in G-od is faith in good. Let 
the heathen rage, let the rebels succeed, let tyranny 
seem to triumph, let our hearts be Wrung with bit- 
terest disappointment and sorrow, we have within us 
a sure word of prophecy, to which we can continually 
resort till the day dawn and the day-star arise in our 
hearts. 

Such are some of the words which God speaks to 
the human race by the mouth of his holy prophets 
who have been since the world began. Not in Judaea 
alone, therefore, not in Palestine alone, are God's pro- 
phets found, but in all lands, and in all times, where 
the reason, the conscience, and the heart of man 
exist. These are always inspired to prophesy. The 
inspiration may be of a higher or a lower order ; from 
that of Baalam, the son of Beor, to that of Jesus of 
Nazareth. But, differing in degree, it is one in na- 
ture : it is always the inspiration which flows from 
God into the soul which opens itself to him. 



IV. 



STEPS OF BELIEF. 
John iv. 42 : " Now we believe, not because op thy sating ; 

FOR WE HAVE HEARD HIM OURSELVES, AND KNOW THAT THIS 
IS INDEED THE CHRIST, THE SAVIOUR OF THE WORLD." 

HHHE woman went out of the city that morning, one 
of the most forlorn creatures of earth. She was 
despised by her neighbors, and she knew that they 
had a right to despise her. She was living with a 
man who was not her husband : she had been false to 
others, or had been abandoned by them. Affection, 
pure affection, was dead in her heart. It was ulcerated 
by sin, remorse, and shame. She was bitter toward 
men, defiant toward God. She believed that men had 
been unjust to her ; that God had not given her a fair 
chance. 

So she went out that morning from the ancient city 
of her fathers, situated in the beautiful and seques- 
tered glen at the base of Gerizim. Above her head 
rose the great cliffs, whose gray rocks were half hid- 
den in the masses of foliage, and whose purple 
shadows rested on the valley through which she 
passed. The blessings of Gerizim had passed her by: 
the curses of Ebal had fallen on her forlorn head. 



STEPS OF BELIEF. 



43 



So she followed the foot-path, her water-urn on her 
head, till she saw before her the old stones surround- 
ing the Well of Jacob. On one of them a man was 
sitting ; and she knew him, by his dress, to be a 
Jew. 

One would think that two nations who differed from 
all the world, and were despised by all the world, 
would stand by each other. One would think that 
races having the same blood, speaking almost the 
same language, having nearly the same sacred books, 
both followers of Moses, both worshipping the same 
God, would have some sympathy for each other. But 
such is not human nature. We can pardon those who 
differ widely from us, — not those who almost agree 
with us. " Since they almost agree, why not quite ? " 
we say. The Catholic king could not pardon the man 
whom he thought a Jansenist; but when he found he 
was not that, but simply an atheist, not believing in 
any God at all, he gave him an office. 

Besides, the men or the race who are despised like 
to find something lower than themselves to despise in 
turn. The scorn of mankind fell on the Jew. He 
turned against the Samaritan with a still greater con- 
tempt. Juvenal, the Roman poet, tells us, in his 
sharp, stinging verse, what people in his time thought 
of Jews. " He is the son of a Jew," says he : " so 
the poor fellow has been taught to worship clouds, 
and to consider it as bad to eat pork as to eat a man. 
He obeys what Moses has written in his mystical 
book, and makes the seventh day one of pure lazi- 



44 



STEPS OF BELIEF. 



ness." And so a wiser man than Juvenal, Tacitus, 
says that the Jews " nourish a sullen and inveterate 
hatred against mankind : their ceremonies are gloomy 
rites, full of absurd enthusiasm, — rueful, mean, and 
sordid." 

The Jews were thus thought by the Romans to be 
the lowest of mankind : they thought the Samaritans 
infinitely lower than themselves. The Samaritans 
despised and scorned the woman who went on that 
eventful morning, her heart full of rage and despair, 
to the sacred ancient well. There she saw a Jew. 
She went to the open mouth ; did not look at him as 
she lowered her urn into the deep well, and drew it 
up, ready to meet his contempt with cold indifference ; 
when he quietly asked her for water : " Give me to 
drink." 

Then she turned, and looked at him. We know 
what she saw, — not the face which painters have 
made so familiar to us, the ideal of art ; not a face 
all gentleness and weak humility. No : Jesus never 
looked so. There beamed upon her from his eyes a 
light, penetrating to the depth of her mind, - — a light 
of calm insight, of generous good-will, of manly 
strength; a look which contained in itself the pro- 
mise of comfort, guidance, support, wherever it fell. 

I shall not go through this strange, magnetic, elec- 
tric, soul-creating, and wonderful conversation with 
any paraphrase of mine. The woman went from her 
home that morning in despair : she went back full of 
new hopes. She had seen with her own eyes him, 



STEPS OF BELIEF. 



45 



the long expected, long-predicted one. He had read 
her inmost thought ; he had touched her most secret 
experience ; he had filled her heart with a faith in God 
and herself. " The man who has told me all things 
that ever I did — is not he the Christ ? " 

He who shows to us all we ever did, he who reveals 
to us our own heart, — he comes always in the name 
of Christ. Unless Jesus comes to us so, he has not 
really come to us at all. Until he shows us what we 
have done, shows us what our life really is, what we 
are before God and before the eternal laws of right 
and truth, we do not see him as the Christ, as our 
Master and King. We see him, perhaps, as Jesus of 
Nazareth, — a good man ; a wonderful teacher, con- 
sidering his circumstances and opportunities ; but 
nothing more : not as the Christ, the Son of God, 
the Saviour of the world. 

It is only love and insight which show us all we 
have ever done. Cold sagacity misjudges us : mere 
sympathy, feeble good-nature, soothes, but does not 
essentially help us. But love illuminated by truth, 
truth warmed through and through by love, — these 
perform for us the most blessed thing that one human 
being can do for another. They show us to ourselves : 
they show us what we really are, what we have been, 
may be, can be, shall be. 

So the words of Jesus found the poor soul in her 
despair, and, not excusing her past folly and sin, 
showed her the noblest truth and good, — the living 
water of God, the pure worship of the Father, tran- 



46 



STEPS OF BELIEF. 



scending all forms and ceremonies, uniting all sects, 
breaking down all partition-walls ; lifting earth to 
heaven, and bringing down heaven to earth. We hear 
no more of her : she passes out of the history, never 
to return. But to-day and for ever the wonderful and 
sublime words which Jesus spoke to her, the highest 
words ever uttered by man, the prophecy of a great 
future, are a part, and for ever a part, of the story of 
this poor woman. 

I wish to indicate here, from the words of the text, 
the five steps of belief through which we pass in our 
human experience. The men of Samaria began by 
believing in Jesus in consequence of what the woman 
told them: they ended by believing in him in conse- 
quence of what they themselves had seen. " Now we 
believe, not because of thy words ; for we have heard 
him ourselves, and believe that this is the Christ, the 
Saviour of the world." 

All our belief begins with the testimony of others. 
We first believe on testimony. God has made us to 
rely on the truthfulness of others. The little child 
believes every thing which is said to him, and so 
learns last; because ninety-nine things of a hundred 
said to him are true. So nations and races take their 
belief from their ancestors. The man born in China 
believes in Confucius : if you had been born there, 
you would have believed in him. Every one born a 
Turk believes in Mohammed. Had you been born in 
Italy, you had been a Roman Catholic, to begin with. 
The vast majority of Trinitarians, Unitarians, Episco- 



STEPS OF BELIEF. 



47 



palians, Methodists, Quakers, are so because they were 
born so. Their parents were so before them. This 
is a good thing. We begin with a traditional belief, 
which we accept without a doubt, and in which is 
always contained a great deal more truth than error. 
So we all learn something. God has graciously 
shielded little children from the wretchedness of 
doubt. But though childhood is good for children, it 
is not good for men. We must pass from traditional 
belief to something beyond it. 

Now, the fault with many sects and churches is, that 
they try to make this traditional belief a permanent 
end. They try to fasten it, and rivet it, and to make 
any progress out of it impossible. The Roman Catho- 
lics do this openly and on principle. They make an 
idol of their traditions, and refuse to let themselves 
hear the other side of any question ; but, in doing 
this, they cease to believe in testimony, and believe 
with their will. This, then, is another way of be- 
lieving. The first method of belief is belief from 
testimony ; the second, belief from will. 

But, to a certain extent, God has made us to be- 
lieve with our will ; and, to a certain extent, it is right 
to do so. That is, when we have seen a thing to be 
right and true and good, we ought to cling to it. 
That truth which, in our calm and sober hours, we 
have accepted, we ought not to let go, because, in 
hours of trial and darkness, we cannot see it. Cling 
to it still, and you will see it again by and by. There 
is such a thing as loyalty to truth, which is noble. 



48 



STEPS OF BELIEF. 



It is good to stand by the flag in the storm of battle, 
and when all around seems defeat and disaster. It is 
good to trust in God, in goodness, in eternal right, in 
the triumph of truth over evil, when we do not see 
how, or understand why. So, having believed from 
testimony, we may go on, and all persons do go on, 
and believe from will. All persons do and ought to 
cling for a while to their traditional belief, to the 
religion of their fathers, to the convictions of their 
people and land, and not be in any hurry to give 
them up. 

Still we cannot stay for ever in this belief from 
will. After a while, the intellect claims its rights. 
We have to think about our belief, and examine it ; 
and then comes in the belief from reason, which is 
the third step. 

Christianity is, no doubt, a reasonable religion. It 
encourages inquiry. It is not afraid of any amount 
of investigation. There is no sort of harm, nor any 
danger, in the freest exercise of thought. To cry out 
against heresies, and to persecute heretics, is itself 
unbelief: it is being afraid that the truth cannot 
stand. Think as much as you will, inquire as freely 
as you choose ; there is no sort of objection to this. 
It is our duty to examine and criticise and reflect; 
for how otherwise can truth advance ? The church 
and world can never be one in faith except by free 
thought. By keeping where we are, we keep apart: 
by going forward, we may come together. So that it 
is right to believe from reason, and to believe with a 



STEPS OF BELIEF. 



49 



clear and active "understanding. This is the third 
stage of belief. 

But these beliefs need to be all merged into 
another and higher belief ; that is, the belief from 
experience. We must say to Tradition, " Now we 
believe ; not because of thy words ; but we have 
seen him ourselves, and know that this is indeed the 
Christ, the Saviour of the world." Knowledge only 
comes through experience. Belief passes into know- 
ledge when we live it. To live the truth we believe, 
is, therefore, the only way to be certain of it. It is 
always so. 

The certainty we have of our own existence, and of 
the reality of the outward world, came by experience. 
It is so long ago, that we have forgotten the process. 
But the infant, gazing with blind wonder on the 
world, reaching out its feeble hands to touch the sky, 
knows nothing certainly. His own being, and that of 
the world around, are confounded in one. But God 
puts into his heart an instinctive and irresistible 
activity ; and, in his incessant movements and play, 
— handling every thing, touching every thing, ex- 
amining all things, — he is coming to a clear know- 
ledge of the world about him. It is activity, 
born of desire, which makes us know every thing. 
Knowledge is thus born of love, through expe- 
rience. 

I know those whom I love, and I know no one else. 
Those who love me, and no others, know me. Sharp, 
cold, criticising intellect knows nothing as it ought to 

4 



50 



STEPS OF BELIEF. 



know it. Its knowledge is empty; it rings hollow; 
it is as sounding brass and tinkling cymbal. 

You cannot know any thing of nature and the 
world around you except by loving it. The naturalist 
is he who takes a joy in nature ; who is happy in 
roving, day by day, through the summer woods, or 
by the sounding sea ; who is not studying in order to 
become a great man, but because Nature herself is 
beautiful and dear to him. She haunts him, she 
attracts him, she fascinates him : he can never leave 
her. So, at last, every feature of her lovely face 
grows familiar, and he is full of knowledge, and 
always running over with it ; and you cannot speak 
to him in the street, but he will tell you something 
about Nature you did not know before. 

And so we know men when we love them. Jesus 
knew the Samaritan woman because he loved her. 
He saw in her, beneath all her sin and shame, a heart 
still capable of true goodness, of pure worship, and 
sincere adoration. His sympathy brought him close 
to her soul; and so he knew her as no one else did. 

It is not enough to know the outward facts of a 
man's life in order to know him. His actions are 
the smallest part of him. Beneath all his acts is the 
man himself, with his hope, his aim, his purpose, his 
conviction, his longing, his sin and remorse, his faith 
and struggle. This is the real man; and you can 
never know him till you have begun to love him ; and 
then he lets you into his inward experience, and you 
know him well. So, too, we cannot know God till we 



STEPS OF BELIEF. 



51 



love God. Jesus teaches us to know God by show- 
ing him to us as our Father and Friend. It is by 
coming to him day by day, and trusting in him, and 
leaning on his help, and believing in his providence, 
and conversing with him in throbs and aspirations of 
prayer, that we come at last to be as certain of God's 
presence and love as of our own existence. 

And so we know Christ by loving him. When we 
take him as our Master, Friend, Saviour ; when 
we seek to obey his divine law, and help him in his 
present work in the world, — we come to know him. 
He who sympathizes with Christ in caring for the 
poor, the ignorant, the suffering, the sinful, and seeks 
to help Christ in this his great work, comes to know 
Christ. In looking for his poor, we' find him ; in 
visiting his prisoners, we visit him ; in speaking 
words of truth and love to the sinful and weak, we 
find ourselves in secret intimacy and sympathy with 
our Master. We do not know Christ only by read- 
ing about his life and miracles, but by having him 
formed in our hearts, by making ourselves Christs to 
other souls, by letting his spirit act in and through 
us, and so leading others to him. 

And so, at last, we also know immortality. That 
ceases to be belief, and becomes knowledge. We 
begin by believing in a future life on outward evi- 
dence : we end by knowing it by instinctive convic- 
tion. We experience immortality every time that we 
live and act from an immortal motive. Whenever 
we go out of ourselves and our own self-interest, we 



52 



STEPS OF BELIEF. 



are immortal: we have eternal life abiding in us. 
The more we live so, the more certain we are of our 
own immortality and that of others. " He who liveth 
and believeth in me shall never die/' said Jesus. He 
did not see death : he could not see it any more than 
the sun can see a shadow. All high, generous motive 
obliterates death from the pure vision. It is not our 
duty to think of death : our duty is to think of life. 
We are to live as though there were no such thing in 
the world as death, either for ourselves or others. 
Think of God, of Christ, of duty, of immortality, of 
love, and you shall realize the truth of the saying 
of Jesus, " I am the resurrection and the life. He 
that liveth and believeth in me shall never die." 

So, my friends, it is our privilege and duty to 
pass on from the belief of testimony, in which we 
are born and nursed, to the belief of experience and 
personal conviction. Step by step, life leads us on, 
and deepens every conviction, changing opinion into 
knowledge. Doubts and fears vanish one by one ; 
uncertainty and scepticism pass away. So the storm 
of yesterday, which darkened all the sky with a triple 
canopy of clouds, and threatened us with a rainy 
Sunday, has gone by, and left a serene, cloudless 
heaven. And so, too, shall this awful hurricane of 
war, which has burst upon our land, also pass by, 
leaving us a clearer atmosphere than before, and a 
purer air to breathe ; leaving us righteousness in the 
place of iniquity ; true peace instead of a false one ; 
real union instead of hollow compromises ; in place 



STEPS OF BELIEF. 



53 



of a nation hampered and fettered by evil institutions, 
a great and noble Christian republic, with its face 
lifted to the future, and the rising sun of coming 
centuries of human progress glowing around its brow 
as an immortal halo of glory. 



V. 



THE THORN EST THE ELESH. 
2 Cor. xii. 7 : " There was given to me a thorn in the flesh, 

THE MESSENGER OF SATAN, TO BUFFET ME, LEST I SHOULD BE 
EXALTED ABOVE MEASURE." 

WHAT this " thorn in the flesh " was, no one knows. 
There has been no end to conjecture ; but it 
leads to nothing. AH we know is, that something in 
his soul, which he compares to a thorn sticking in the 
flesh, pained him and weakened him. Like a thorn in 
the flesh, it was a foreign substance introduced into 
his soul and life. Like a thorn in the flesh, it often 
gave him intense pain. Like a thorn in the flesh, it 
disabled him, in some way or at some times, from 
doing his work. Thus much we know : also we 
know that he earnestly prayed three times, but with- 
out any success, hoping to get rid of his trouble ; 
and that he found, at last, that the trouble was good ; 
that, when humbled, he was exalted, when weak 
strong, according to the everlasting Christian para- 
dox. From all this we may learn some useful les- 
sons. 

For, first, we all have something which goes with 
us, stays by us, hides itself away in our soul, and 
which is like a thorn in the flesh. It is a foreign 



THE THORN IN THE FLESH. 



55 



substance ; something unnatural, by no means a part 
of our true lives. It is something which opposes 
our best progress, interferes with our sincerest efforts 
to do right ; a messenger of Satan, therefore ; and yet 
it is somehow sent by God, — " given us," says the 
text ; and which God finds to be for our good, and 
refuses to take away. It is something which makes 
us weak, yet strong in our weakness ; which humbles 
us, yet gives the very humility we want in order to 
rise. 

Let us consider some of these thorns. 

Sickness is a thorn. Some fine brain, like Pas- 
cal's or Robert HalPs or Buckminster's, has a fibre 
which makes discord ; and the whole economy of 
thought stands still. Some spirit ready to devote 
itself to great duties, a young man just entering the 
ministry of Christ, a noble woman like Mrs. Brown- 
ing, an inspired teacher of the race like Dr. Chan- 
ning, a child of genius like Mozart or Raffaelle, 
from the weakness of an ill-assorted body, die at 
the beginning of their work, or are hampered and 
checked all the way through by the poor body. 
The sweet bells of their soul make no adequate 
music, but are jangled, out of tune, and harsh; or 
else they fall into silence just as the awakened world 
listens for their wide-rolling melodies. A son, long- 
ing to support his widowed mother ; a daughter, per- 
fectly trained in intellect and heart to help and bless 
those who need her care, — is smitten into palsied 
helplessness by some inexorable disease. " How mys- 



56 



THE THORN IN THE FLESH. 



terious the Providence/' we say, " that these should 
be thus arrested ! while some hard, tyrannical hus- 
band, some stolid, selfish worldling, some reckless 
spendthrift and swindler, says, ' What's the use of 
anybody's being sick ? I never knew a sick day in 
my life.' " The man who uses his health as a despot 
is healthy : the man who would use it for boundless 
service to his race has it not. Legree's nerves, mus- 
cles, and sinews are all perfect ; but the angelic Eva 
fades before the moth. So that this pathetic minor 
crosses our ears in all the world's music : this is the 
sad refrain of all our poetry, singing evermore, — 

She was of this world, where the things most sweet 

Pass soonest away ; 
And Eose met the fate which other roses meet, — 

To bloom for a day. 

Another thorn in the flesh is the unexpressed soul. 
It is homeliness, awkwardness, inability to express 
one's self easily and adequately. How many poor 
souls, full of noble sentiments and ideas, are hemmed 
in and shut up by these barriers ! They sit like the 
prince in the " Arabian Nights," with half his body 
black marble. Young people feel this thorn very 
keenly. They cannot pass for what they are worth, 
they cannot have what they have a right to have, 
just because the cruel step-dame, Nature, has not 
loosened their tongue, — has put on them a strait- 
jacket of mauvaise honte, — has given them a poor, 
homely face or figure. It is a perpetual thorn in the 
flesh, and a barrier to their usefulness. The beauti- 



THE THORN IN THE FLESH. 



57 



ful soul is put into the homely body, and sees some 
very commonplace soul dwelling hard by in a lovely, 
all-attracting form. From these lips, the magic of 
grace makes the silliest sophism charming: in those, 
the repelling austerity of manner deprives the purest 
truth of its power. 

Then there is another thorn, worse than this, — 
the black drop of blood which has got mingled in our 
circulation from some alien source. Inherited depra- 
vity, the sin of the parent visited upon the child by 
some mysterious but inevitable law of descent, makes 
us struggle, all our lives through, against a messenger 
of Satan in our own bosom. If Satan could send his 
angel into the soul of Paul, and Paul could not get 
rid of him, we need not wonder that these angels of 
darkness come to buffet us. These thorns stick fast 
in the fibres of the mind and heart. Pity those who 
thus suffer, — pity, and do not blame. Perhaps you 
meet every day an overbearing, dogmatical person, 
who, you are sure, is perfectly satisfied with himself, 
and who despises every one else. You feel yourself 
justified in despising him. But this very man is 
perfectly conscious of his faults. He struggles 
against them ; he hates himself for them. Though 
bearing so brave a face outwardly, he is inwardly 
dissatisfied with himself as much as you are with him. 
Pity him, therefore. And here is one who is sharp, 
cynical, bitter, critical, fault-finding. It is in his blood 
to be so. He finds fault all day with himself for being 
so. Cannot we try to pity him, instead of hating 



58 



THE THORN IN THE FLESH. 



him ? And here is a fretful person, or a morose per- 
son, or a grumbling person. You cannot avoid him 
more than he would like to avoid himself. What 
faults of temper are sticking in us like thorns ! What 
habits of thought, of feeling, of speech, for which we 
abhor ourselves the moment we have spoken the 
sharp word, done the hasty act, indulged the un- 
worthy desire ! How we cry to God to help us out 
of this misery ! and cry, as it seems, in vain. 

" Where Sin's red dragons lie in caverns deep, 
And glare with stony eyes that never sleep, 
And o'er the heavenly fruit strict ward do keep, — 

There our poor hearts, long struggling to get free, 

Torn by the strife, in painful agony 

Cry out, ' O God, my God, deliver me ! ' " 

Sometimes the thorn seems to be, not in ourselves, 
but in our circumstances. How happy we might 
have been, how good we might have been, but for 
this unfortunate lot ! Poverty is the weight which 
rests on some lives. They feel that their best powers 
are wasted in a mere struggle for existence. They 
have no leisure for improvement, — no time for 
thought, for good society, for hopeful and humane 
endeavor. Poverty is the angel of Satan sent to 
buffet them. They grow bitter against their condi- 
tion, they rebel against the hardship of their lot. 
Or else there is a disappointed hope, a chamber of the 
heart closed and barred, and left without a tenant. 
Oh, if that dear child had lived ; if that friend had 
not gone, whose soul lifted ours into another world, 



THE THORN IN THE FLESH. 



59 



— how different we should have been ! We hug our 
bereavement, with bitter determination not to be 
comforted. We press the thorn into our heart. 
There is a happy street for us in the world above, 
where we may meet our lost friend again ; but no 
happy street shall we ever find here. 

What deeper thorn in the heart than the sense of 
an irreparable loss ? But within these two years we 
have seen the best blood of the land, the purest and 
noblest children born in our Northern homes, go out 
to die, with their fathers' blessing and their mothers' 
kiss. These children, for whose coming God pre- 
pared this fair land, that they might open their infant 
eyes on the beauty of its hills and valleys, its lakes 
and forests : for whose childhood, past generations of 
thinkers, from Plato and Aristotle down to Pestalozzi 
and Horace Mann, have been providing methods of 
education, — these young men, purified in the calm 
atmosphere of virtuous homes, developed by the 
training and discipline of schools, of study, of books, 
of travel, the costly fruit of the latest century and 
the most advanced race, go to die in a field of un- 
availing slaughter. Well, I visit their mothers or 
sisters, their fathers or brothers, when the fatal news 
arrives. I go with fear, dreading to meet such a great 
and hopeless anguish. I find heaven there. I find 
the peace of God in their souls. It is the happiest 
place in the city to go to. I cannot bear to leave 
such a divine atmosphere. I go to carry sympathy, 
and perhaps words of comfort ; but I receive instead 



60 



THE THORN IN THE FLESH. 



inspiration, and the influences of angelic joy. Toge- 
ther with the deep sense of bereavement, the thorn 
penetrating the depth of the soul, the lethal arrow not 
to be taken from the heart while the heart beats, there 
is this strange serenity, sent down direct from God. 
And the boy, falling on the battle-field, renews all the 
tales of Greek and Roman heroism. We can burn 
our " Plutarch. " We do not need to read hereafter 
the stories of Themistocles, of Aristides, or Leonidas. 
These Boston children, your brothers and sons, are to 
be spoken of in history for ever, and are to be the 
illuminating lights of the coming age. This is the 
thorn in the flesh, — deep as death, but changing into 
the most divine beauty and life for all time. 

The old painters delighted in taking for their sub- 
ject the martyrdom of St. Sebastian ; perhaps because 
it gave them an opportunity of painting a beautiful 
manly figure, who in Christian art corresponds to the 
Antinous in Greek sculpture ; but also, I think, be- 
cause it gave them the occasion to attempt that high 
problem of artistic genius, — the representation of 
outward suffering passing into a deep inward peace 
and joy. This youthful form, all aglow with life and 
health, with no saintly emaciation, is bound to a tree, 
and pierced with arrows, with crimson blood oozing 
from the wounds ; but the face is radiant with celes- 
tial joy, to which the suffering gives relief. So on a 
summer day, a dark background of shadowy hills, with 
a purple thunder-storm passing behind, relieves and 
enhances the sunny glory and beauty of the nearer 



THE THORN IN THE FLESH. 



61 



valleys, waving in green luxuriance beneath the blue 
sky. So the thorn in the flesh becomes the test and 
sign of the highest life. 

But perhaps the worst of these thorns of circum- 
stance are to be found in the ill-assorted home, where 
the sweetest ties of life become fetters and mana- 
cles ; the daily cup of blessing becoming a cup of 
poison, from mutual misunderstanding, or want of 
adaptation. In a true home, hearts tend to each 
other in confidence, by a natural attraction, as the 
pendulum to its centre. The soul expands into full- 
est development in that genial atmosphere. I think 
the home shows itself a true one as it takes off 
restraint from the soul, and removes reserves, while 
preserving tender thoughtfulness and mutual defer- 
ence. Love teaches respect without reserve. This 
is its formula. In the world, and in most places, 
we are like glaciers, half thawed only, our thought 
flowing at the rate of a foot a day, — a little brook of 
utterance dripping from beneath the superincumbent 
frozen mass. But, in the true home, this glacier 
is melted in the summer influence of love and con- 
fidence, and flows down into a lovely river ; every 
sharp, self-possessed particle turning into a liquid 
drop of perfect adaptation. This is the joy of socie- 
ty, — entire freedom, born of entire confidence in one 
another. But how often does it happen otherwise ! 
The soul, fluent abroad, freezes at home. There is 
no confidence between parents and children. The 
father thinks it his duty to be stern and unsympa- 



62 



THE THORN IN THE FLESH. 



thizing : the sons carry elsewhere their confidence. 
Brothers and sisters are ignorant of each other's 
interests. The husband is a tyrant, the wife a slave. 
He, possibly, is a genteel, courteous tyrant ; she, 
doubtless, a luxuriously cared-for slave. Or he is in- 
temperate, and a brute ; she a patient angel, working 
herself into her grave to support the children whom 
he neglects. Or perhaps it is the reverse, — he 
patiently toiling to support the home, and she idly 
wasting in careless dissipation the fruits of his labor. 
This is the deepest thorn in the flesh ; this " the 
objection " (as Jeremy Taylor says) " which lies in 
one's bosom." 

What soul is there that does not have its thorn ? 
What heart that does not know its own bitterness ? 
What society, however graceful, beautiful, where con- 
versation flows in brilliant sweeping floods of elo- 
quence, or flashes in ripples and waterfalls, or moves 
calm and serene, — 

" A river of thought, that, with delight, 
Divides the plain/' — 

that has not its jealousies, its ennui, its weary sense 
of emptiness, and often envies the day-laborer his 
healthy work? What dark, locked-up chambers of 
mystery are in every household, every heart ! But 
these implacable demons, sent, as it seems, from hell 
below to torture us, turn to smiling angels when we 
cast our care on God, and surrender our will to his 
will. They purify the soul ; they deepen it ; they 
make life more serious, earnest, joyful. 



THE THORN IN THE FLESH. 



03 



We find, by our text, that there are some limita- 
tions to the effectual fervent prayer of the righteous 
man. Prayer avails much, but does not remove these 
thorns. Three times Paul besought the Lord to re- 
move his, not because of its anguish, but because it 
deprived him of power to do his work ; but God said 
to his soul, " No." It was revealed to him that he 
needed this thorn to humble him, and to make him 
lean more wholly on God's truth and love. " My 
strength is made perfect in thy weakness." The 
strong, determined energy of the apostle would have 
become arrogant self-reliance but for this thorn. Its 
sting cast him more wholly on God. 

And so it may always be with us. If you have any 
trial which seems intolerable, pray, — pray that it be 
relieved or changed. There is no harm in that. We 
may pray for any thing, not wrong in itself, with per- 
fect freedom, if we do not pray selfishly. One dis- 
abled from duty by sickness may pray for health, that 
he may do his work ; or one hemmed in by internal 
impediments may pray for utterance, that he may 
serve better the truth and the right. Or, if we have 
a besetting sin, we may pray to be delivered from it, 
in order to serve God and man, and not be ourselves 
Satans to mislead and destroy. But the answer to 
the prayer may be, as it was to Paul, not the removal 
of the thorn, but, instead, a growing insight into its 
meaning and value. The voice of God in our soul 
may show us, as we look up to him, that his strength 
is enough to enable us to bear it. 



64 



THE THORN IN THE FLESH. 



The sickness may be not to death, but to life. We. 
in our sickness, may do more than in our health. 
Our poverty, which seems such a manacle, may unite 
us in deeper sympathy with our race, and throw us 
more wholly on God. The rich man is tempted to 
lean on his mortgages and stocks : but the poor man is 
induced to lean daily on God for daily bread ; and, as 
it comes day by day, his trust grows cheerful and 
confident. The man who trusts in his investments is 
frightened with every financial panic : the man who 
trusts in God is always brave. And so it often hap- 
pens, that the man of millions, unless he keeps up his 
courage by giving away freely, is afraid of poverty ; 
but the man who has nothing but God is afraid o± 
nothing, and so possesses all things. 

We pray against our besetting sin. But God may 
answer this prayer, not by removing the temptation, 
but by giving us more confidence in him, more 
sense of his pardoning love in Christ, more of a sen- 
timent of steadfast reliance, more of habitual living 
with God. Instead of removing the temptation, he 
comes and dwells with us. God and Christ make 
their abode by our side. " Most gladly, therefore, we 
glory in our infirmities, that the peace of Christ may 
rest upon us." God does not take away the Red Sea, 
nor the wilderness, nor Jordan, but goes with us 
through them all, — a cloud by day, a pillar of fire 
by night. Nothing brings us so near to God as the 
sense of our spiritual and moral needs. 

According to one theory of life, the true progress 



THE THORN IN THE FLESH. 65 

of man consists in removing all obstacles, making all 
conditions harmonious, all work attractive, all rela- 
tions agreeable and suitable. Following out this 
theory, we strive to break away from all inharmonious 
relations. But the poor Irish woman, who clings to 
her brutal, drunken husband, and says, " He was good, 
ma'am, once, and he's my husband," can teach these 
philosophers a lesson. I do not say that she is right, 
or that they are wrong ; but I do say, that true human 
progress often consists rather in taking the good of 
our position, and bearing its evils, than in breaking 
away from inharmonious relations. The world ad- 
vances through shadow afc well as through sunshine. 
The heart grows great and noble by manfully meet- 
ing and bearing the great trials of life. When we 
are weak, then we are strong. 

This nation of ours, amid all its prosperity, has 
had its thorn in the flesh. The institution of negro 
slavery in the United States has been the one thorn 
in our destiny, the one difficulty of our situation. 
All good men have sought for years, and prayed, that 
this thorn might be removed. We have tried to get 
rid of it by colonization, by emancipation, by debate, 
and all varied efforts, — in vain. God has left' this 
thorn in the flesh of the nation to sting it into humil- 
ity, and reliance on him ; and now it has humbled us 
indeed. It has destroyed for a time our Union, taken 
away our prosperity, involved the present in doubts 
and the future in darkness, and caused all Europe to 
shake its head at us in derision. But this humiliation 

5 



66 



THE THORN IN THE FLESH. 



the country needed ; and this thorn is allowed to 
remain, till we learn to lean on God and truth, 
on justice and humanity, not on our own strength, 
energy, wealth, and abundant power. Nothing else, 
perhaps, could have taken out of the national mind 
that egregious vanity and self-esteem which was 
growing more colossal every year. We seemed to 
suppose that it was our own energy and ability which 
had prepared for us the continent. We took credit 
to ourselves for the richness of our land, the extent 
of our soil, the treasures of minerals and vegetables 
which we possessed. We felt a little proud because 
our rivers were so long, and* our States so large. As 
for our prosperity, we attributed it wholly to our own 
enterprise and talent. No wonder that the Old World 
listened to us with some disgust ; and so now, in our 
trial, we do not obtain its whole sympathy. It might 
have had sympathy with our cause, if not with us. 
But better for us, perhaps, to learn to stand alone, and 
fight our own way back to union and peace. 

"Leaves fall ; but, lo, the young buds peep ! 
Flowers die ; but still their seed shall bloom. 
From death the quick young life will leap, 
Now Spring has come to touch the tomb. 
The splendid shiver of brave blood 
Is thrilling through our country now ; 
And she, who in old times withstood 
The tyrant, lifts again her brow. 
God's precious charge we sternly keep 
Unto the final victory : 
With freedom we will live, or sleep 
With our great dead who set us free. 
God forget us, when we forget 
To keep the old flag flying yet ! " 



VI. 



FAITHFUL OVER A FEW THINGS. 
Matt. xxv. 21 : " Faithful over a few things. " 

|~T is a peculiarity of Christianity to lay stress on 
little things. It cares more for quality than for 
quantity. One man " may bestow all his goods to feed 
the poor ; " and yet the gospel shall pronounce him 
devoid of love to his neighbor, and of less account 
than the poor widow who puts her two mites into the 
treasury of God. It is not, " How much have you 
done?" but, "In what spirit have you acted?" not,. 
" How long ? " but, " How well ? " 

Every man's life has a law which governs it. All 
that he does unconsciously, he does according to that 
law. Is his ruling motive ambition, pleasure, con- 
science, love of truth, love of God ? Then that 
ruling motive colors every act ,* and every word he 
utters in his most careless hours partakes of that 
general determination. And therefore for every idle 
word shall he give an account, because his idle words 
are all polarized by the central magnetism which go- 
verns his soul. In the English marine, it is said, 
there is a thread of scarlet which is woven into all 



68 



FAITHFUL OYER A FEW THINGS. 



the cordage, from the largest cable to the smallest 
line. It is the mark of government property. So a 
line of red runs through all of our thoughts, words, 
feelings, and actions. It is the stamp of our character 
upon each one of them. So Shakspeare never intro- 
duces on the stage a character that is not qualified 
by an individuality. If he speaks a second time in 
the play, you may know that it is the same person 
who spoke before. 

If there is such a law of unity pervading our lives, 
some of us are not very well aware of it. We think 
that we can act one way in small things, another way 
in great ones : that in small matters we are not under 
law, but that in great things we are. So we come to 
despise or to neglect small matters. We trifle with 
truth in little things, with honesty in little things, 
with the law of reverence or of love in little things. 

But what is the meaning of the word " integrity"? 
It means thoroughness, entireness ; putting the same 
quality of soul into every thing, great and small. No 
one is a man of integrity who does not do every thing 
with the same undeviating honesty, the same unbend- 
ing principle. The man of real integrity puts the 
whole energy of conscience, faith, love, into the 
smallest act as into the greatest. So the steam- 
engine in a factory exerts the same tremendous 
power to cut in two an iron bar, or to stick a pin into 
a card. 

Christianity does not allow us to trifle with any 
thing. There is nothing trivial to the illuminated 



FAITHFUL OVER A FEW THINGS. 



69 



eye and heart of faith. He who says to his brother, 
" Thou fool ! " is in danger of hell-fire. He is, in fact, 
already in hell-fire ; for the feeling of contempt for 
his brother, the scorn and disdain which can thus 
reject from its sympathy a fellow-man, is itself the 
spirit of the pit. 

" He who hateth his brother," says the apostle, " is 
a murderer." His hate may vent itself in no deadly 
act, in no word of injury : but the hatred in the heart 
is murderous ; it is tending that way. It is the arc 
of the curve, the return of which is deadly. 

A similar error leads us often to say, " How much 
good I would do with my money, if I were as rich 
as this man or the other ! " How much good do 
you do now with what you have ? " Oh ! if I had 
only time, what would I not learn and do ! " says 
another. How do you spend the time you have? 
If you do not spend well the small time you have to 
spend, the little money you have to use, why do you 
think you would do better with more ? The astrono- 
mer turns his glass to the heavens, and fixes three 
little points of the comet's course, and so finds a 
small arc of its curve. From that arc he can predict 
the whole. And so there may be an angel looking 
down this moment on you and me, seeing what we 
have done yesterday, the day before yesterday, and 
to-day ; and, from these three positions of our soul, 
he may infer the path in which we are moving, — 
inward toward the sun of life and light, or outward 
into darkness, coldness, and death. 



70 



FAITHFUL OVER A FEW THINGS. 



Here is a man who is a petty tyrant. He bullies 
the weak, he dictates to the submissive. If he is a 
coarse and ignorant man, he beats his wife: if he is 
a refined and educated man, he civilly and politely 
tyrannizes over her. If he is a master, he is harsh 
to his dependants ; if a lawyer, he badgers the wit- 
nesses, particularly if they are women and children. 
Now, because this man happens to live in a free 
State, is he any the less a slaveholder ? Because he 
has no opportunity to torment whole communities, 
is he any the less a Nero ? Here is another man, 
who cannot bear to be contradicted in argument, and 
gets angry with his opponent when he cannot con- 
vince him. In him dwells the spirit of a Dominic 
or a Torquemada. Give him the power, and he 
would straightway put on the rack a man who dif- 
fered from him. Here is another, who indulges his 
appetites, his passions, his desires, a little way, and 
then stops short of debauchery and intemperance, 
because he is afraid of the consequences. In his 
heart he is nevertheless guilty of the acts which his 
hand may never perform. 

I once heard of a colored preacher, who used this 
plain but striking image in a sermon : " You think, 
my brethren, that you can go a little way out of 
God's road into the Devil's field, and not be caught, 
provided you do not go too far. But the Devil is not 
such a fool, when he spreads his nets and sets his 
traps for you, to put them away in the middle of his 
field. No : he puts them close to the road : so, if you 



FAITHFUL OVER A FEW THINGS. 



71 



mean to go a great way or only a little way, he is 
sure to have you in either case." The illustration 
was homely; but the doctrine is sound. 

Perhaps we can best see how the moral difference 
between men consists in a quality of conviction and 
purpose, running into all they do, by comparing 
together different persons in the same walk or pur- 
suit. 

I can conceive that there may be two men, equally 
active, laborious, and eminent, in the same profession 
or trade ; and one shall be doing a great work by his 
occupation, while the other shall be really doing very 
little. I may illustrate this by describing two law 
yers, two physicians, two merchants, and two clergy- 
men, 

There are two lawyers, Counsellor A. and Counsellor 
B. Counsellor A. studied law, believing human law 
to be founded on divine law ; to be an attempt to 
organize justice, truth, and right in human institu- 
tions. He considers it his business as a lawyer to 
protect the weak, to restrain the injustice of the 
powerful, to search out the truth in intricate and 
dark cases, so that the innocent may be proved inno- 
cent, and the guilty punished. He trains his intellect 
to be acute, penetrating, comprehensive, and full of 
resource, in order to hunt the flying footsteps of 
truth, and pour light into the tangled maze of error 
and sophistry. With the authority of insight, he 
makes peace between litigants, by showing each 
where he is in error ; and he stands among men as a 



72 



FAITHFUL OYER A FEW THINGS. 



judge, though he may not have the title or the office. 
He does a great work for society ; and$ when he dies, 
Justice and Truth weep over his grave; for, with 
him, God's law always reigned supreme. 

Meantime Counsellor B. is a different sort of a man. 
He is a great lawyer too. He entered his profession 
to make money, to get influence, to acquire reputa- 
tion ; and he has got them all three. He regards all 
laws as equally arbitrary and accidental, resting on 
no basis of absolute justice; and therefore all, good 
or bad, to be equally deserving of respect. His busi- 
ness, as a lawyer, is to get his case. He will use any 
argument by which any jury-man can be persuaded. 
If he cannot convince, he will confuse ; if he cannot 
prove, he will puzzle ; if he has no arguments, he has 
plenty of sophisms. He is a great orb, raying out 
darkness. Such a man may work very hard all his 
life, and yet die at last, having done no real work for 
mankind. 

Then there are two physicians, Dr. C. and Dr. D. 
Dr. C. f^els a strong sympathy for human suffering, 
and a desire to alleviate it. He believes that it is 
God who has given wonderful healing properties to 
plants and minerals; and he studies patiently and 
carefully symptoms and remedies. Every case is 
sacred to him. The sickness of the beggar has his 
attention, like that of the prince. He is humble 
enough and wise enough to admit that he does not 
know every thing. He confesses his ignorance, and 
is ready to receive light. He does not go blindly and 



FAITHFUL OVER A FEW THINGS. 



73 



dogmatically according to his theory, but patiently 
interrogates Nature, and sits at her feet waiting. He 
also asks God's blessing on all that he undertakes, 
and enters his patient's chamber with prayer. What 
a great work does not such a man do in the world ! 
He carries health of mind as well as of body to a 
thousand homes ; and to such a one we may apply 
the words of the poet : — 

" I have lain on the sick man's bed, 
Watching for hours for the leech's tread, 
As if I deemed that his presence alone 
Had power to bid my pain begone ; 
I have listed his words of comfort given, 
As if to oracles from heaven ; 
I have counted his steps from my chamber-door, 
And blest them when they were heard no more." 

But Dr. D. is of another school. He is a pedant, 
and prescribes according to some little theory. He 
is conceited and vain, — vain of his own science, vain 
of his profession and clique. Very bitter is he 
against innovators and interlopers. He had rather a 
man should die under the regular practice than get 
well by an irregularity. He has no awe, no fear, no 
great sense of responsibility, no tender human love. 
He is not living to be useful, but living to be 
successful; and his work is not really work, — it is 
idleness. 

And here are two merchants, Mr. E. and F. The 
first regards commerce as a great means of civiliza- 
tion. The ship which carries goods carries ideas ; 
and the minds of nations are woven together by the 



74 FAITHFUL OVEE A FEW THINGS. 

winged shuttles which cross and recross the resound- 
ing ocean. He enlarges trade by an infusion of gene- 
rosity and magnanimity. His ships go as missionaries ; 
his sailors are treated as men. Such large and 
generous views elevate a trade to the dignity of 
a mission ; and the princely-minded merchant does a 
great work in the world, even though his means be 
small. 

But Mr. F. I shall not describe, because it is not 
necessary. There are in business too many men who 
merely ask how they can make money, not how they 
can do good by their business. We know the result 
of this, — how mind and heart are narrowed, and how 
the great business may turn out at last a mere waste 
of life. 

What more blessed work than that of a good clergy- 
man? — one who is modest but manly, whose heart is 
in his work, whose life is given to making men happier 
and better. He sees all sides of life. He is welcome 
in the homes of the rich and the poor, the intelligent 
and the ignorant. He goes from the wedding to the 
funeral, from the gay dinner-party to the bedside of 
the dying. To him men bring their confidences : he 
sees human nature from the inside as well as the out- 
side. Men of the w T orld think they understand human 
nature because they know men in their business- 
hours, — because they know them in the street and 
shop, in the court-room and on change. But in these 
places they see just so much of them as the fencer 
or boxer sees of his opponent. Men meet each other 



FAITHFUL OVER A FEW THINGS. 



75 



there armed for battle. We see the fighting-side of 
men at such times. But the minister, if he is a man 
of sense, no pedant, nor made morbid by a gloomy 
theology; if he is a man in whom others place confi- 
dence as sincere and conscientious, — has opportu- 
nities of knowing and helping men which few others 
can obtain. He has enough to do, enough to learn, 
enough opportunity for loving and being loved. 
What more does he want here or anywhere? 

But a clergyman who is ambitious for success out- 
side of his work ; who is aiming at worldly position 
or literary renown; who loves pleasure or ease ; who 
is narrow in his views; is a bigot or a partisan, — 
such a one may do more harm than good. He loves 
his creed more than truth, he loves his sect more than 
Christianity, and himself most of all. If the interests 
of his church are identified with some abuse, then he 
comes at last to apologize for or defend the abuse. 
Thus we have seen, in our day, the example of Chris- 
tian ministers, servants of him who came to break 
every yoke and let the oppressed go free, defending 
slavery, and opposing the roused conscience and heart 
of mankind with arguments drawn from the curse of 
Noah. They — 

" Torture the pages of the blessed Bible 
To sanction crime and robbery and blood ; 
And, in Oppression's hateful service, libel 
Both man and God." 

Would it not be better if such men had been shoe- 
blacks or day-laborers, — better for themselves, and 



76 



FAITHFUL OVEK A FEW THINGS. 



better for mankind ? Would it not have been better 
for Christianity if they had never been born ? 

Some men toil and groan to be orthodox, — to have 
every point of their creed, and of the creed of every- 
body else, exactly sound and square. But one single 
effort to get the truth is more than years of such 
painful orthodoxy. One hearty, earnest, genuine 
longing for light, and struggle toward it; one con- 
scientious putting-aside of prejudice, party feeling, 
private interest, in order to correct our possible 
errors, — is valued, no doubt, far more by God than a 
lazy assent to a whole bushel of propositions, be they 
never so sound and true. Yes, there is more faith in 
honest doubt than in ever so much cowardly and 
indolent acquiescence ; and, in the day of judgment, 
I am sure there will be many a man who passed for 
an infidel here, and was lashed by all the Orthodox 
pulpits, rostrums, and newspapers for his heresies, 
who will shine forth as the sun in the kingdom of the 
Father ; for his soul was white, and he kept his mind 
unspotted from the world. 

These things may teach us the grandeur and 
majesty of our lives. There is nothing common, 
nothing unclean, in man's being below. Yast prin- 
ciples are involved in all that we do, or omit to do, 
each day. Every day we rise to a great career, a 
grand opportunity. Into the smallest word and act 
we may put the most divine or the most devilish 
spirit. We may walk every day into heaven as we 
walk down the street, or we may walk into hell. 



FAITHFUL OYER A FEW THINGS. 



77 



According to the state of our soul every day, we 
shall keep company with devils or with angels. If 
we allow ourselves to be cold, selfish, hard, and 
worldly, we shall draw around us a company of evil 
spirits impure as our own. If we resolve on a noble 
and generous direction of our life, then angels and 
archangels, thrones and dominions, holy and pure 
spirits, angels of light and love, cherubim with many 
eyes, and seraphim covered with wings from the 
nearer glory of God's presence, — these will be our 
companions and inward monitors; for as we are 
inwardly, in the centre of our being, so shall we be 
surrounded outwardly. 

And now, as we have looked at the working of this 
law on its dark and threatening side, let us turn the 
picture, and see it on its bright and encouraging 
one. 

It is not any great amount of work which is 
required of us in order to be good and faithful ser- 
vants : it is to be genuine and true in what we 
do. For example, take the subject of prayer. What 
does Christ ask of you ? To pray a great deal ? To 
pray so many times a day? To pray morning, noon, 
and night ? Not at all. On the contrary, we are told 
not to be like those who expect to be heard for their 
much speaking, and who, for a pretence, make long 
prayers. " When ye pray," says the good and gene- 
rous Master, — " when ye pray," pray so. Pray more, 
or pray less, as your needs impel you: he leaves that 
to you. Only, when you pray, pray in spirit and 



78 



FAITHFUL OVER A FEW THINGS. 



truth. Then be sincere. Ask G-od for what you 
really want, not what you think it proper to ask for. 
Do not say a word till you really can put your heart 
into it. 

Pray in that way, sincerely, earnestly, ever so 
short a prayer, and that will be the same in the sight 
of God as if you read from a breviary, like a Catholic 
priest, so many hours every day. If you are faithful 
in the least, you will be faithful in much. If, when 
you do pray, you pray with the heart, and from the 
heart, you will then have the spirit of prayer ; which 
is the main thing. If you can say once, from the heart, 
" God be merciful to me, a sinner ! " you have in you 
the same spirit of penitence, the same essential humi- 
lity, which was in the soul of Peter when he repented 
and was forgiven. Divine pardon you have tasted 
in that moment, and know its sweetness. You are in 
unison with the lowliest and loftiest saints who sing 
praises to God nearest the throne. 

So, if you are faithful in the smallest duty when 
tempted to do wrong, you have in you the spirit of 
all virtue. The smallest child who resists a tempta- 
tion to disobey is in the same sphere of spiritual life 
with the heroic souls of confessors and martyrs. It 
is therefore that we are so moved by all narrations 
of fidelity, generosity, conscientiousness, no matter 
how small the sphere of action, or how humble the 
actor. 

We are not obliged, then, to pass our lives in 
anxiety; in anxious thoughts about our duties, or 



FAITHFUL OVER A FEW THINGS. 79 

in gloomy thoughts about our sins. Keep in the 
generous, kindly, loving spirit of Christ, and then 
" all things are yours." One throb of love is worth 
more, in the sight of God, than a life filled with 
anxious, conscientious, laborious, but hesitating and 
imperfect obedience. He does not ask much of us, 
but asks that this shall be right. 

I saw in Overbeck's studio, in the Cenci Palace in 
Rome, among many drawings of a somewhat conven- 
tional character, some in which he had allowed him- 
self to follow Nature rather than the traditions of 
his Catholic masters. Among these, there was a 
sketch of the woman who brought her two mites to 
the treasury of the temple. A burly Pharisee was 
pressing forward, ostentatiously emptying his purse 
into the opening of the great iron-bound chest on the 
floor. The poor woman, with two darling little chil- 
dren clinging to her, and hiding their faces in her 
dress, was modestly reaching forward her humble 
gift. On the other side stood Jesus, with his disciples 
near him ; and half turning, with a smile on his face, 
he seemed to say, " See there, again, what I have told 
you so often ! It is not the gift, but the spirit in 
which it is given, that makes its value. She has 
given more than all of them." Or, as Crashaw has 
versified it, — 

" Two mites, two drops, — but all her house and land, — 
Fell from an earnest heart, but trembling hand. 
The others' wanton wealth foamed high and brave ; 
The others cast away : she only, gave." 



80 



FAITHFUL OYER A FEW THINGS. 



The reward for 'being faithful in small things is the 
opportunity of serving God in things of more impor- 
tance. Such is the divine law. He who has made 
himself ready, and has put on the wedding-garment, 
may go into the marriage -feast of truth and love. 
He who has strengthened, by diligence, his powers of 
soul here, shall have opportunity, ample and grand, 
of using them there. This life is, in one sense, all 
preliminary and provisional. We are in a studio of 
the great Artist, and he gives us little pieces of clay 
to model. One may have a better piece than another ; 
but when the Artist comes, and looks at the work, 
he does not think of the quality and size of the clay, 
but of the skill, patience, and fidelity displayed on 
it. 

I have heard many definitions of " art ; " but I 
know, on the whole, no better one than this, — to do 
faithfully what we do. Any thing, done perfectly 
well, becomes a work of art. Any thing, finished 
thoroughly in -all its details, affects the mind as art; 
and any high or beautiful work, thoroughly done, 
.becomes fine art. It is the perfect finish of poetry, 
the exact proportion of architecture, the regular 
modulation of music, the delicate precision of paint- 
ing and sculpture, which make them all works of 
art. Any thing which can be done in a slovenly 
way, where a little more or less makes no difference, 
is not art. Shovelling gravel, or digging potatoes, 
cannot be carried to that precision, and so cannot 
become works of art. 



FAITHFUL OVER A FEW THINGS. 



81 



But life becomes a work of art when it is all 
directed to one aim, all arranged according to a plan, 
and all thoroughly executed. Christianity alone can 
make life high art, because it alone fulfils these con- 
ditions. It gives high aim to all our activity, fills 
it with a noble spirit, and teaches us to execute it 
thoroughly and perfectly. 

It is a grand and glorious truth that is taught in 
our text. Let us only be genuine, honest, true, in 
any thing, however small, and we have in that the 
sign and pledge of an entire consecration of heart 
and life to God. He who is able to deny himself the 
least pleasure from a simple sense of duty has in him 
the spirit which would enable him, if the necessity 
came, " to give his body to be burned." He who 
feels the least throb of genuine, sincere love for his 
fellow-creatures has the spirit born in his soul which 
would make him equal to all generosities and philan- 
thropies, if these should be called for. He who fulfils 
his duty well in any sphere is preparing himself 
for the highest. What does it matter to God what 
material we work in ? We are his journeymen, his 
apprentices, learning our trade in his workshop of 
life. He gives one a piece of common wood, another 
a piece of mahogany, another of ivory, to try his skill 
on ; but he looks not at the material, but sees how 
we have done our work 

So it is. A single act of genuine, sincere, thorough- 
going fidelity raises us at once to a higher plane ; and 
our whole life proceeds henceforth by a nobler, man- 



82 



FAITHFUL OYER A FEW THINGS. 



lier measure. We have seen many instances of this. 
We have known men make what seemed a hard sacri- 
fice for duty : but, after that hour, their mind, heart, 
and whole nature were elevated and ennobled ; they 
were henceforth new creatures. A genuine good 
action has a transforming efficacy on the character. 
We are not the same men afterwards as before. 
Pray for the opportunity of doing such an act ; pray 
for the chance of making some great sacrifice ; or, 
rather, find such an opportunity for yourself. Look 
for it, for it is very nigh thee now; for angel-oppor- 
tunities come to us every day, and we entertain them 
unawares. 

Sometimes I meet with people weary of life : they 
think they have nothing to live for, nothing to do in 
the world, nothing to enjoy ; they have lost their 
interest in every thing, and the world is to them a 
thrice-told tale. They think they wish to die. They 
are mistaken: they wish to live. They think they 
wish to go away from mankind. They are mistaken : 
they wish to come near them. Those are most weary 
who do not know this ; who have been trying to gain, 
not to give ; who do not taste the bliss of bounty ; 
who do not pour out their life on others, to have it 
given back again, full measure, pressed down, and 
running over, into their bosoms. 

" Two hands upon the breast, 
And labor's done ; 
Two pale feet crossed in rest, 
The race is won ; 



FAITHFUL OVER A FEW THINGS. 



Two eyes with coin-weights shut, 

And all tears cease ; 
Two hps where grief is mute, 
And wrath and peace : 
So pray we oftentimes, mourning our lot ; 
God, in his kindness, answereth not. 

Two hands to work addrest, 

Aye for his praise ; 
Two feet, that never rest, 

Walking his ways ; 
Two eyes that look above 
Still through all tears ; 
Two hps that breathe but love, 
Nevermore fears : 
So cry we afterwards, low on our knees : 
Pardon those erring prayers ! Father, hear these 



VII. 



MORAL PERSPECTIVES. 



Matt, xxiii. 23 : " Ye pat tithe of mint, anise, and cumin ; 

AND HAVE OMITTED THE WEIGHTER MATTERS OF THE LAW, — 
JUDGMENT, MERCY, AND FAITH." 



HOEVER has noticed a china plate will have 



t Y observed, that, with all its economic merits, it 
has grave defects as a work of art. The chief of 
these consists in an entire absence of what we call 
perspective. The house in the foreground is no 
larger than that in the extreme distance. The water- 
fowl several miles off are as large as the little chil- 
dren close by. The Chinese have not yet learned to 
discriminate, in their work, the effects of distance 
on the size of objects, their forms, and their color. 
That department of art known as perspective they 
have not yet attained ; but it is a very important one. 
I recollect that Hogarth has a picture in which he 
represents some of the absurdities resulting from 
ignorance of the laws of perspective. A woman, 
leaning out of a window, is lighting her candle at a 
fire on a distant hill. A flock of sheep, going up the 
road, grow larger as they recede ; and a horse in 




MORAL PERSPECTIVES. 



85 



the foreground is somewhat smaller than a man a 
quarter of a mile off. 

Now, there are in the world of thought and action 
certain laws analogous to those in the domain of art, 
forming what we may call moral perspective. Some 
men's thoughts, for example, obey these laws ; and we 
call these men sagacious and wise. They recognize 
what is near and what is distant. They see what is 
practically important, and what not. A merchant 
once told me that the secret of success in business 
was to know what thing ought to be done first, and 
what should be postponed. You are listening to a 
trial in a court of law. Obscure and conflicting testi- 
mony has confused the case. A great lawyer rises, 
and all that he does is to call the attention of the 
court and the jury to the important points in the case. 
He brings these out in a clear light, and places them 
in the foreground ; letting secondaiy matters recede 
into the middle distance, and unimportant ones dis- 
appear in the background. He has made a great and 
successful argument simply by applying the laws of 
perspective to the matter in hand. 

So it is with the great statesman, politician, essay- 
ist, or writer in any department of literature. So it 
is in all practical life. The great general is he who 
sees the pivotal points of the campaign or the battle ; 
who is strong on these, not confused by the multitude 
of details. This is always one of the secrets of suc- 
cess. 

On the other hand, we feel at once the absence of 



86 



MORAL PERSPECTIVES. 



intellectual perspective in a book or a man. The 
book is uninteresting because it has no method, no 
progress, no leading thoughts, no beginning, middle, 
or end. The man is tiresome in whose conversation 
all things are of equal importance ; who emphasizes 
equally the gossip of the street and the crisis of a 
nation. The minds of some men are like Alpine 
scenery, where vast mountains, piercing the sky with 
snowy peaks, alternate with valleys, whose falling 
waters, green meadows, and luxury of foliage, make 
marvellous contrasts with the terrific scenes above. 
But other minds are like the dead level, in which 
the monotonous outline and stagnant waters make a 
dreary waste, dull and flat and empty. 

These laws of perspective also apply to the moral 
world, to good and bad, to right and wrong. It is of 
this that I wish chiefly to speak. 

The text tells us that the Pharisees had no percep- 
tion of moral perspective. They went beyond the 
Chinese plate, and reached the absurdity of Hogarth's 
picture. The tithing of mint was not only as impor- 
tant as justice, but more so. It hid it entirely. Their 
picture was all a foreground, filled with ritual observ- 
ances; and all the higher duties were omitted or for- 
gotten. The little ceremonies in front eclipsed the 
great duties behind. 

One of the most common diseases of the conscience 
is this want of perspective, — this confusion of duties 
small and large, near and distant, important and 
insignificant, primary and subordinate. It is the 



MORAL PERSPECTIVES. 



87 



state which the Apostle Paul defines as a " weak con- 
science." The Corinthian Christians shrank with 
horror from the idea of eating meat offered to idols : 
but they were sectarian, and quarrelled about reli- 
gious opinions, — one saying, " I am of Paul ; " and an- 
other, " I am of Apollos." They were exclusive and 
aristocratic, and could not eat together at the Lord's 
Supper, but sat apart. 

Paul respected the conscientiousness even of a 
weak conscience, and said, that though an idol was 
not any thing, yet as long as it seemed to them to be 
something, and they were conscientious about it, they 
ought not to eat the meat offered to idols, lest " their 
weak conscience should be defiled." And so, now, 
people observe days and times, and consider it a sin 
to take a walk on Sunday, or for little children to 
enjoy themselves. They think it a very danger- 
ous thing to doubt concerning the Trinity, or to 
question total depravity, but no sin at all to buy and 
sell little children, to tear husbands from wives, and 
keep back the hire of the laborer who has reaped 
their fields. It is no sin, they think, to be grasping 
and sharp and mean in business ; no sin to be censo- 
rious and bitter against all out of their own church 
and party ; but a dreadful sin to go to a church which 
does not hold the opinions they happen to believe 
themselves, or to think they believe. 

A great many people are unnecessarily tormented 
because they cannot have technical evidence of their 
conversion. They torment others in the same way. 



88 



MORAL PERSPECTIVES. 



If they would only be contented with Scripture evi- 
dence, how happy they would be ! Here are some of 
the tests of true religion laid down in the New Tes- 
tament : — 

" We know that we have passed from death to life, 
because we love the brethren." 

"If any man believe that Jesus is the Christ, God 
dwells in him, and he in God." 

" He that loveth is born of God." 

" He that dwelleth in love, dwelleth in God, and 
God in him." 

" If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to 
forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unright- 
eousness." 

. Now, is it not strange, that, with such passages as 
these before their eyes, people shall still insist that to 
be baptized, or not to be, makes the difference between 
salvation and damnation ? Thus speaks Frederick W. 
Eobertson, the wise Church-of-England minister, con- 
cerning this Church-of-England superstition: "The 
superstitious mother baptizes her child in haste, be- 
cause, though she does not precisely know what the 
mystic effect of baptism is, she thinks it best to be on 
the safer side, lest her child should die, and its eter- 
nity should be decided by the omission. And we go 
to preach to the Heathen, while there are men and 
women in our Christian England so bewildered with 
systems and sermons, so profoundly in the dark 
respecting the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, so 
utterly unable to repose in Eternal Love and Justice, 



MORAL PERSPECTIVES. 



89 



that they must guard their child from him by a cere- 
mony, and have the shadow of a shade of doubt, 
whether or not, for omission of theirs, that child's 
Creator and Father may curse its soul for all eter- 
nity.'-' 

One English writer, who encourages this supersti- 
tion, is Miss Yonge, the author of many excellent 
books for children and young people. Her books are 
almost always sensible, wise, and Christian ; but she 
fails in this point of moral perspective. She repre- 
sents some very little things as though they were 
very large. She sometimes intimates that it is a ter- 
rible thing for an unbaptized child to die ; thus mak- 
ing of baptism a magical charm by which to save the 
child's soul from God. She does not exactly say that 
an unbaptized child will be lost ; but she seems afraid 
that it may be so. She thus encourages a heathenish 
superstition, which neither Christ nor the Bible 
authorize. The Bible speaks of the " washing of 
regeneration, and renewing of the Holy Ghost." It 
is regeneration which washes us, not washing which 
regenerates us. The object of Christian baptism is 
this life, and not the other. Baptism is an introduction 
into the Christian Church in this world, not a prepa- 
ration for the next. Miss Yonge, therefore, reverses 
the true view of baptism ; and, in the same way, she 
represents the rite of confirmation as so important, 
that the neglect of it fills her young people with 
great terror. 

A little child was dying of a cruel disease, whose 



90 



MORAL PERSPECTIVES. 



only comfort was in listening to reading. They were 
reading to her out of a book called " Ministering 
Children. 77 Her father came in, and proposed to 
read to her. She said, " I don't wish to hear that 
book, papa: take the other one on the shelf." After- 
ward, her cousin said to her, " Why did you not wish 
to hear more out of that book ? Why did you ask 
your father to read from the one you had already 
finished ? " — " Because," said the dear child, " it 
made papa feel badly to read in that one : so I asked 
him to read from the other." 

Now, I should like to ask Miss Yonge, whether, if 
this child, who forgot her own suffering to spare her 
father a pang of grief, — whether, if this angelic child 
should die without being baptized, God would not 
receive her ? That generous love in her little patient 
heart would make her clearer, in my opinion, to the 
heart of the Saviour, than if she had been baptized 
by the Archbishop of Canterbury, and confirmed by 
the Pope of Rome. 

The other day, I read an account of a lady who 
went to Corinth to look for her husband, after the 
great battle there. Searching, she found his body. 
" Now," says the narrator, " if I were writing a ro- 
mance, if this were a sentimental story, I should 
describe how she sat bathed in tears from morning 
till evening, unconscious of every thing. But it is 
better than a romance : it is a noble reality. So the 
fact was, that, after shedding some natural tears, she 
turned from the dead body of her husband to the 



MORAL PERSPECTIVES. 



91 



wounded soldiers of his company ; and, instead of 
indulging sentimental sorrow, she found comfort, for 
two long days, in taking care of the wounded and 
dying." 

But suppose that this lady had never passed 
through any technical conversion : could she possibly 
have any better evidence of God's love in her soul 
than that which helped her to leave her own sorrows 
to care for others' woe ? God's life was in her heart 
then, if never before or after. She was born again at 
that time, because she loved the brethren. 

Yet many people forget all that Christ has said 
of obedience, humility, and love being the essence 
of religion, and place this in some opinion, some cere- 
mony, belonging to some church, adhering to some 
religious usages. To Jesus, life, a holy life, is the 
one thing needful. To them, profession, ritual, emo- 
tion, conformity, are much higher. 

What shall we say of such persons ? Only this : 
That their consciences are weak consciences, and have 
no sense of spiritual perspective. If their opinions 
concerning religion and morals were put into a pic- 
ture, it would be like the picture on a Chinese plate. 

Much harm is done in these ways. Much harm 
also is done by a confusion of great and small in 
regard to common duties and common faults. People 
make sins out of mistakes, and grave crimes out of 
pardonable errors. Children are taught, that to break 
a dish is as wrong as to tell a lie, by the indignation 
the mother shows when that accident occurs. No 



92 



MORAL PERSPECTIVES. 



doubt, it is inconvenient to you to have your best cup 
or glass dropped and broken ; but, if you show a high 
indignation at what is at worst carelessness, what 
will you do when your child commits a serious of- 
fence ? Your child has torn its clothes, or soiled them 
in playing in the dirt. Now, this is, no doubt, a bad 
thing for you who have to mend them ; but you have 
no right to treat it with the same gravity as though 
it were an act of cruelty, falsehood, or selfishness. 
You sophisticate your child's conscience in doing so. 
Or, if the child's sense of justice is too clear to be 
sophisticated, then you destroy your own influence. 
Treat such things as misfortunes, not as sins. Let 
them have their evil consequences if you choose. Say 
to the child, " How sorry I am that you have torn your 
frock ! Now, I don't know what we shall do. I am 
afraid you cannot go to the picnic." But do not say, 
" Oh, what a naughty child ! How could you do it ? 
You shall not go to the picnic." 

We are very apt to make great sins out of what 
only happens to be troublesome to ourselves. Ee- 
member, when you do this, that you are confusing the 
moral sense. Grave, austere reproach and solemn 
rebuke are precious, and should be kept for great 
occasions. Do not waste them on small matters. 
They ought not to be used in a family or in a school 
more than a few times in a year. By applying them 
every day, we destroy their effect. Treat small mat- 
ters lightly, troublesome mistakes cheerfully; and use 
stern and severe reproach and censure only for real 



MORAL PERSPECTIVES. 



93 



sins. Then your censure will be remembered as long 
as your child lives. 

One of the great advantages of true religion is, that 
it gives this perspective to life. A religious person, 
laying all stress on the essential vital facts of the soul, 
is able to look with proper allowance and charity on 
the smaller faults of men. To him there is " one 
thing needful ; " one only. To him all virtue, all duty, 
is briefly comprehended in this one thing, — Love. 
As, by a law of perspective, all the lines of the picture 
perpendicular to its surface have the same vanishing- 
point ; so all the lines of duty, being parallel, converge 
to this point of love, which is always before the 
Christian eye ; and are all fulfilled in that. This con- 
stant conviction of the supremacy of love gives unity 
to thought and life, — gives a tone of united earnest- 
ness and charity to all judgments and all appeals. 

I was reading, this week, a recent book by a very 
intelligent Englishman, Arthur Helps ; in which I 
noticed the want of moral perspective in his judg- 
ment of the present American crisis. He says that 
the English would have sympathized with the Union 
in its present distress, had it not been that " Ameri- 
cans were such a boastful people." And so, because 
we have this fault, which is offensive to the good taste 
of our polished English neighbors, they cannot take 
any interest in a great struggle on which is staked 
the triumph of slavery or of freedom, the salvation or 
the destruction of a great Republic ! Because Ame- 
ricans boast, and chew tobacco, and eat with their 



94 



MORAL PERSPECTIVES. 



knives, therefore the English will not care for the 
defeat or the triumph of right, liberty, and humanity ! 
Is not this tithing mint, and forgetting justice ? 

In the same way, among ourselves, in the struggle 
of great principles, in the conflict of mighty ideas, 
men allow themselves to take one side or the other 
because of some petty partiality or prejudice. " This 
man is distasteful to me : so I will not stand by him 
in contending for the right." " That man is, I think, 
influenced by personal ambition or interest : therefore 
I will not help him to fight the battle for truth and 
justice." " These people are not to my taste : so, 
though Grod is with them, I will go against them." 
God, fortunately, is not so fastidious ; and he stands 
by his oppressed, his poor, his despised ones, though 
they may be Jews defiled with leprosy, or Africans 
with big lips and crooked legs. 

• All great souls rise above this petty Chinese narrow- 
ness. Before all noble minds, every thing in the pic- 
ture of life assumes its proper proportions. Primary 
duties, mighty truths, the master-lights of our being, 
the essential vital essences of things, come forward 
into the foreground, and occupy the chief and con- 
stant interest. Back into the middle distance fall the 
minor interests and lesser duties ; and into the sha- 
dowy background, where the soft aerial tints melt the 
outlines into ineffable beauty, and blend sky and land 
in one sweet flood of happy light, pass all the remoter 
interests of life; on to the distant horizon-line, where 
heaven and earth become one. This is true great- 



MORAL PERSPECTIVES. 



95 



ness of soul, — to recognize the relative propor- 
tions of all truths, all duties, and all interests. 
When we meet persons thinking so, in whatever 
society or condition of culture, we feel respect for 
them. We draw near to them. They do us good. 
In all that they say, we feel the presence of serious 
things. We see that their life is earnest. They talk 
of what is important. They do not gossip about 
trifles, or dispute about insignificant matters. They 
make life seem worth living ; they add interest 
to every hour. As they speak, our heart burns 
within us ; and, though they may not talk in sanc- 
timonious phrase of religious subjects, we feel the 
profound religion which has its home in their souls ; 
and so they bring us nearer to God, to immortality, 
and to heaven. 

Nearer to heaven ; for heaven, too, has its perspec- 
tive laws. To us, living in a little point of time, on a 
little spot of space, heavenly things, as well as earthly 
things, must be seen, not as they really are, but as the 
laws of optics require. The heavens bend around us, 
and touch the earth, — a dome of deep azure by day, 
a dome of stars by night. But this is only appear- 
ance. The heavens everywhere extend into infinite 
distances, unbent and uniform. Before a north-east 
storm, the clouds form themselves into great fan-like 
diverging masses, rising from the north-east and 
south-west points of the sky. The vast auroral col- 
umns of fire, shooting toward their vanishing-point 
in the zenith above, seem converging to a point there. 



96 



MORAL PERSPECTIVES. 



But this is all a perspective illusion. The clouds 
which seem to converge are parallel ; the auroral 
streamers which seem to converge are parallel: 
they only seem to converge and to bend. 

And so the lines of love 7 which run parallel in this 
world, seem to have their vanishing-point in death. 
The cloudy and fiery pillars of Divine Providence 
seem to vanish in disaster and evil. The progress of 
truth, justice, and humanity, appears to vanish in the 
triumph of evil and wrong. But all this is only 
apparent. This is the perspective effect of our short- 
sighted vision. Loving hearts shall go on side by 
side for ever. Truth and justice shall move forward 
on their vast orbits through all space. Good shall be 
triumphant over evil, right over wrong, peace over 
war ; and all things in heaven and earth shall work 
for good to those who love God. 



VIII. 



"IF HE SLEEP, HE SHALL DO WELL." 
John xii. 12 : " Lord, if he sleep, he shall do well." 

TT is curious how large a part of every man's life 
is passed in sleep ; more than a quarter of it ; 
probably, on an average, a third. So that, if a man 
lives to be seventy, he has slept for more than twenty 
years. He has slept as long as Rip van Winkle, only 
not all at once. No matter how industrious, how 
active, how ambitious, how full of enthusiasm for 
what he has to do ; after every few hours he becomes 
unconscious of all these vivid purposes, and drops 
away into entire indifference and ignorance of them 
all. People may be as different as you please in cha- 
racter, taste, temper ; but they must all sleep six 
hours out of the twenty-four. The rapt saint, just 
caught up into the seventh heaven in an ecstasy of 
prayer, comes back to earth, and goes to bed, and 
falls into some foolish dream. The most virtuous 
man in Boston, and the coarsest criminal in the peni- 
tentiary, at one o'clock to-night will be equalized in 
sleep ; the good man having subsided into a merely 

7 



98 " IF HE SLEEP, HE SHALL DO WELL." 

passive and negative virtue, and the sinner returned 
for a few hours to the innocence of childhood. New- 
ton, just about to discover the great secret of the 
universe ; Shakspeare, with " Hamlet " half written ; 
Milton, with the music of paradise half sung ; Ste- 
phenson, with the locomotive almost invented ; Lord 
Bacon, with the " Novum Organon v nearly thought 
out ; Eafaelle, with the final touch which is to charm 
the world in the Dresden " Madonna " not yet added, 
— must all go to sleep, and lose for six hours all con- 
sciousness of their great work and mission. 
It seems a great loss. 

Even the earth needs to go to sleep once a year. 
The earth around us, so full of activity and life a 
little while ago, folds its arms over its bosom, and 
sleeps the dreamless sleep of winter. The trees, 
which lately shook their multitude of leaves in the 
warm air, made sweet music in the rapid breeze, 
and lashed their branches angrily in the summer 
storm, now stand with all their life gone 'to sleep in 
their roots. But, amid this winter sleep, Nature is 
nursing her powers, and re-collecting her forces, and 
preparing to come forth anew in full and varied life 
with the next year. It seems like death ; but it is 
only sleep. Had we never seen a spring, we should 
say that it was quite impossible for this dead grass 
ever to revive ; for these cold, clattering branches to 
be covered again with tender, delicate leaves ; for new 
blossoms and flowers to hang tender and fragrant on 
bush and tree ; for the children to go out again, and 



"if he sleep, he shall do well." 99 

gather sweet fruits and berries from these dried-up 
and withered sticks. But as what seems like death in 
nature is only sleep; so that which we call death, 
Jesus called sleep. 

Did you ever stand by night on a housetop, looking 
down upon the roofs of a sleeping city ? Here and 
there, a light shows where men are still awake, — 
some immersed in study ; some lonely watchers by the 
bed of pain or death ; some in gay, protracted revelry ; 
some obliged by poverty to cheat the body of its 
needed rest to supply food and clothing to starving 
children. All the rest of the vast population sleeps. 
From every height of wisdom and holiness they 
have gone down, from every depth of passion or sin 
they have come up, to this tranquil, neutral land of 
peaceful repose. The transcendental philosopher, 
who has been, in his lamp-lit cell, fathoming the last 
mysteries of being for his admiring disciples ; the 
sublime poet, who has been weaving, with a smile, 
a tale of woe ; the preacher, who has finished his best 
sermon for to-morrow ; the orator, who has committed 
to memory the last fiery paragraph of the speech 
which is to shake a nation's soul, — these have all 
gone down into that unconscious sphere, the only 
sphere of real democratic equality. There they lie, 
side by side, with the burglar, who has arranged his 
plans for robbing his neighbor's house ; the disloyal 
editor, who has finished the paragraph which is an- 
other stab of his poisoned dagger at the heart of his 
struggling, tormented mother-land; the drunken child 



100 "if he sleep, he shall do well." 



of sin and shame ; the worldly man or woman, plan- 
ning poor triumphs of a selfish success. They sleep 
beneath the kind curtains of night, beneath the watch- 
ful stars encamped in the heavens above, beneath 
God's ever-open eye. All seem to sleep the same 
sweet, dreamless sleep of the just, — the innocent 
children in the dormitory of that convent-school, the 
two hundred prisoners in the jail near by. 

And, " if they sleep, they shall do well." 

The words were true in a deeper sense than the 
disciples thought. It was a sagacious remark in that 
sense. " Nothing," say the works on physiology, " is 
so refreshing during sickness, or so conducive to 
rapid convalescence, as quiet sleep." Balmy sleep is 
kind Nature's sweet restorer. It serves to equalize 
all the functions of the frame, distributing the vital 
power to all parts, repairing all damages in the deli- 
cate machinery of the body ; so that, when the will- 
power is put on again in the morning, it may go to 
work as before. Perhaps Nature goes on the maxim, 
that " a stitch in time saves nine," and mends up all 
the little microscopic lesions in her tender tissues 
before they attain the dignity and danger of a case for 
the doctors. 

What is sleep? Nobody knows. One essential 
character, however, of sleep, is, I think, the suspen- 
sion of will. Man ceases to be active, he becomes 
passive, in sleep. All the operations independent of 
will go on ; as respiration, circulation, digestion, and 
the like. All that depend on the will, as attention, 



"IP HE SLEEP, EE SHALL DO WELL." 101 

perception, direction and management of thought, 
control of muscles, are ' suspended. Man, while 
awake, is always in a state of active will. We do 
not know it perhaps, but, when we stand still, we are 
holding ourselves up. We are not merely seeing and 
hearing, but listening and looking, all the time ; we 
are always holding our thoughts, and guiding them. 
When we fall asleep, it is by gradually letting off the 
control of will from body and mind ; and, if you ever 
noticed yourself just when you were falling asleep, 
you will have observed that you took off the direct- 
ing power from your thoughts, and let them go where 
they would. So they begin to move of themselves, 
by their own associations ; and at last you begin to 
dream. Meantime, as the active power ceases, the 
passive and automatic powers go on more energeti- 
cally. The breathing becomes fuller and deeper, as 
we can notice. The nutritive operations are so inten- 
sified, that most physiologists say that all nutrition 
takes place in sleep. The body, indeed, becomes a 
little colder in sleep ; but that is because, the activity 
being suspended through body and mind, there is no 
such consumption of fuel required in the lungs, and a 
small fire is kept up there. 

Therefore, as to the body of a man, " if he sleep, 
he shall do well." Sleep comes as a physician and 
inspector-general, and examines the whole body all 
through, and repairs and renews it. We make a mis- 
take in trying to do without sleep, as students and 
scholars do sometimes. Work as hard as you can, pro- 



102 "if he sleep ; he shall do well." 

vided you can sleep hard too. An eminent preacher 
once gave me an account of his way of doing so 
much mental work, and his method in writing ser- 
mons ; and he concluded by saying, that a great deal 
of it was done by good hard sleeping. Said he, " I 
sleep as much as I can every night; for I am per- 
suaded, that, if the preacher does not sleep during 
the week, the congregation will sleep on Sunday." 
And I think he was right. I think it is partly the 
preacher's fault if the congregation sleep at church ; 
for how quickly we rouse up when any thing is said 
which is real and vital ! A clap of thunder will not 
stir a man so quickly as an arrow of thought shot 
directly into his conscience and heart. Partly the 
preacher's fault, therefore, but not wholly ; partly it 
is the architect's fault, who has not ventilated the 
church ; and partly it is no one's fault. A minister 
said to me the other day, that when he preached in the 
country, and saw the farmers, who had worked in the 
open air all day during the week in their shirts, come 
and sit, dressed in thick cloth, in a hot church on 
Sunday, he was pleased to see them dropping asleep, 
and getting a little nap ; " forty winks of sleep," as 
Napoleon used to say ; and then waking up bright, 
and ready to listen again. Dean Swift once preached 
a sermon on the text in Acts where it is stated that 
there were many lights in the upper chamber where 
the disciples were gathered, and that " there sat in 
a window a certain young man named Eutychus, 
being fallen into a deep sleep ; and, as Paul wa*s 



" IF HE SLEEP, HE SHALL DO WELL." 103 

long preaching, lie sunk down with sleep, and fell 
from the third loft, and was taken up dead." Dean 
Swift begins his sermon by saying, The fate of this 
young man does not seem to have been a warning 
to his successors who go to sleep in church ; except 
in this, that they choose safer places in which to 
indulge themselves ; and, instead of sitting in the 
window, they compose themselves more "comfortably 
in the corners of the pews. 

But the dean might have bethought himself that 
this text was as much to the address of the preacher 
of long sermons as to the sleepy hearer ; and that, if 
Eutychus could not keep himself awake even to hear 
Paul, there must have been some physical cause for 
his drowsiness : probably his being in the upper part 
of the room, where the bad air from the people and 
the lights was collected. 

But sleep rests mind as well as body. Sleep rests 
the conscience and the will. The sense of responsi- 
bility reposes in sleep ; and we sometimes do in our 
dreams the wickedest actions, without feeling any 
remorse. 

There are mysterious blessings also attending 
sleep. We wake with better, wiser thoughts. We 
wake from good sleep with a more loving heart. So 
God sent a deep sleep upon Adam, and out of it came 
Eve. Inspiration comes in sleep ; as when a deep 
sleep came on Abram, and in it came the promise, to 
him and to his children, of the land of Palestine. 
To Jacob came in a dream a vision of heaven, and 



104 "if he sleep, he shall do well." 

angels ascending and descending; and a clear pro- 
mise, that " in his seed all the families of the earth 
should be blessed/ 7 and not merely the Jews. So 
that, in sleep, sometimes come to us glimpses of 
truths we are unable to see when awake ; perhaps 
because in sleep we are more passive and open to 
influences, and not so shut up in our own opinions 
and belief. So that, when Jacob arose from that 
sleep, he said, " Surely the Lord is here, and I knew 
it not : this is none other than the house of God, 
and the gate of heaven." Daniel's visions, which 
came to him in sleep, have exercised the waking 
thoughts of men ever since ; and still they do not 
know very well what to make of them. 

Wilkinson says that " man is captured in sleep, not 
by death, but by his higher nature. To-day runs in 
through a deeper day to be the parent of to-morrow ; 
and the man issues from sleep every morning, bright 
as the morning, and of life-size." 

All this teaches us of other spiritual sleeps, not 
unconscious, but conscious ; of the higher sleeps of 
the soul, when we sleep to care, to anxiety, to sor- 
row, to sin, to fear, to death ; falling asleep in God. 
Let us look at these. 

As natural and automatic sleep refreshes the body 
by the suspense of the active will ; so the sleep in 
which the soul casts itself on God, suspending, for a 
time, strength, effort, and all conscious goodness, is 
just as necessary for the repair and health of the 
soul. 



"if he sleep, he shall do well." 105 

We must rest even from duty and effort some- 
times ; but the true rest from these, the true sleep to 
refresh conscience and spirit, is to come near to God 
in nature or the Bible, or the closet of prayer. Work 
and prayer should alternate like day and night in the 
Christian life ; and bodily sleep and waking seems 
to be the exact analogon of this spiritual sleep and 
waking. There are two spheres, — one of duty, the 
other of devotion, — into which man needs alternately 
to go. They ought not to be confused. They are 
distinct. When a man says, " To work is to pray," he 
confuses them. To work is not to pray: it is to 
work. When a man makes prayer his work, and 
gives his life, like the monks of Paganism, Mohamme- 
danism, and Christianity, to a mere abstract, mystical 
devotion, he confuses them. You cannot work well, 
except you stop working sometimes, and pray. You 
cannot pray well, unless you stop praying sometimes 
to work. 

I know Paul says, " Pray without ceasing : " but by 
that I believe him to mean, " Do not confine yourself 
to regular hours of devotion, — three times a day, or 
seven times a day ; but pray all the time, as you feel 
the need of prayer." And this corresponds with the 
Master's saying, that true worship is to worship in 
spirit and truth. 

Here is a man harassed with anxiety and care 
about his business, about his health, about his family. 
Here is a woman harassed with care about her sick 
child. She thinks she ought to be anxious : he thinks 



106 " IF HE SLEEP, HE SHALL DO WELL." 

he ought to be anxious. They try to be anxious, 
rather than not to be. They never throw off the 
burden, and go into God's glad presence, sleeping to 
care, sleeping to anxiety, as the little babe in its 
cradle sleeps. They should give all their thought 
for a time to their duties, put their whole heart into 
them, and then take an hour of rest in God's blessed 
love, and cast all their cares on Him who cares for 
them. Thus could they work better, and conquer 
their difficulties better : for care and anxiety unnerve 
the soul ; and to try to live in anxiety is like trying 
to live without sleep. 

The Christian world rests on Sunday. I am no 
Sabbatarian. I do not believe in keeping the Jewish 
sabbath. Saturday is the sabbath ; and, if any one 
wishes to keep the sabbath, let him keep Saturday. 
I believe that the Lord's Day is a day of freedom, not 
of constraint ; of joy, and not of gloom. I believe in 
the Catholic view of it, not the Puritanic. The Catho- 
lic Church never allows fasting on Sunday, not even 
in Lent. It has always been a rule of the Church to 
make Sunday a festival, — never a fast. In Lent, 
no member of the Roman-Catholic, of the Greek, or 
of the Oriental churches, is allowed to make Sun- 
day a day of fasting. I should like to see Sunday 
made in every family the happiest of days, — a day of 
domestic joy and love ; a day for doing good ; a day in 
which no gloom is allowable ; a day on which every 
one of the family should bring all his gifts of good- 
humor, and inventions of kindness, to the rest. 



"if he sleep, he shall do well." 107 

But it is not a day for common business, for going 
to and fro. It is a day in which to stand still, and 
consider the wonderful works of God. All life should 
cease its bustle and confusion, and grow calm. That 
is the beauty of our mode of keeping it. The world 
stands still every Sunday throughout Christendom, 
— stands still, and thinks ; and I believe an immense 
access of power, thought, and character, comes to 
Christendom from this one source. We do not keep 
the Lord's Day as well as we might, or as well as our 
children will keep it; but, even now, it is a source of 
great blessing to mankind. 

So also God has sent his Son to teach us to sleep 
to sin as well as to care. We are not bound to be 
always troubling ourselves about our sin. We are not 
bound to be awake to sin. The Bible says, " Be awake 
to righteousness." It does Dot say, Be awake to sin. 
We are to see our sin, and repent of it, and bring it 
to God, and lay it down before his footstool, and then 
accept the righteousness which is by faith. Open 
your hearts to God's forgiving love. Trust that your 
Father forgives you when you are penitent ; and you 
are forgiven. Receive the sweet sense of reconciling 
love into your heart, and repose in him, — the dear 
Friend who sent his Son to save you, not merely here- 
after, but now ; not merely from punishment, but from 
sin itself. 

Jesus, you will have noticed, always speaks of 
death as sleep. He does not choose to call it death ; 
for he came to abolish death, and those who believe 



108 "if he sleep, he shall do well." 

in him do not expect to die. They expect to pass 
through a sleep into a fuller life. Therefore he said 
of the young girl, " The damsel is not dead, but 
sleepeth;" and of Lazarus, " Our friend Lazarus sleep- 
eth." And so the disciples, afterward, were fond of 
the phrase, and spoke of those who were asleep in 
Jesus. They said that a part of those who had seen 
Jesus " remain, but some are fallen asleep." — " They 
which are fallen asleep in Christ." — " We would not 
have you ignorant concerning them that are asleep." 
— " Since the fathers fell asleep." Their choice of 
this expression was not accidental, nor was it a mere 
figure of speech. They saw, in sleep, the image of 
death ; meant to show us, that as we sink away every 
night into unconscious but happy repose, and awaken 
refreshed, so it will be at the end. 

The most remarkable use of the phrase, however, 
is in the case of Stephen. To the Jews he seemed 
to die a horrible death of anguish : to the disciples 
he seemed to drop into a pleasant slumber, his mind 
full of visions of Christ and heaven. " When he had 
said this, he fell asleep." 

Jesus calls death a sleep. The ancients and mo- 
derns have called death the sister of sleep. Lewes, 
in a scientific work, says this is a mistake ; that 
sleep has nothing in it like death. Yet perhaps there 
is a deeper analogy than science can perceive. Death 
is not destruction ; it is repose. It is going to rest 
with God and Christ, and the dear spirits loved and 
lost, in some of the many mansions our Father has in 



"if he sleep, he shall do well." 109 

his great house, the universe. Just as there is a 
positive pleasure in sleep which attracts the tired 
man, just as food attracts the hungry man ; so death 
attracts the weary soul. This instinct is no mistake. 
The little child, full of wakeful life, hates to go to 
bed, longs to sit up later ; but the tired child drops 
sweetly into his little bed, the flushed cheek resting 
on the round arm. So, when we are full of life, we 
hate the idea of death ; but, when it comes, it usually 
finds us tired and ready. Almost always, men are 
willing to go. In all my experience of death-beds, 
I have met only one case of a person who was 
unwilling to die. Usually death comes as sweet as 
sleep, bringing with it a positive joy, and revealing 
beforehand to the soul something of the love and 
peace which lie beyond these shores of time. 

Thus sleep is a symbol and teacher of many things. 
At first sight, it seems like a waste of life ; but it is 
just as true life as the waking part. Many physio- 
logists even declare that sleep is the natural condi- 
tion of man, and wakefulness the abnormal state of 
the body. This, I think, is not so. The one is as 
natural as the other; for the two must be well ba- 
lanced to make perfect health. To sleep too much is 
as unhealthy as to sleep too little. But sleep and 
wakefulness, passive life and active life, faith and 
works, piety and morality, love to God and love to 
men, — these all are the great polar forces of bodily, 
mental, and moral life, which act and re-act on each 
other, and keep us as we ought to be. The man who 



110 "IP HE SLEEP, HE SHALL DO WELL." 

sleeps all the time, sleeps to no purpose : his sleep 
hurts him. He who wakes all the time, wakes to no 
purpose : he can do nothing well. He who labors 
for man, with no faith in God, labors to little good. 
He who worships God, without serving man, wor- 
ships to little good : his prayers hurt him rather 
than help him. 

Sacred is the day ; sacred also the night. Holy is 
work ; holy also is prayer. 

Yes, all sleep is sacred. " If a man sleep well, he 
shall do well." A writer says, " Such is the power 
of the heart to redeem the animal life, that there is 
nothing more exquisitely refined and pure and beau- 
tiful than the chamber of the house. The couch ! — 
from the day that the bride sanctifies it to the day 
when the aged mother is borne from it, it stands 
clothed with loveliness and dignity. Cursed be the 
tongue that dares speak evil of the household bed ! 
By its side oscillates the cradle. Not far from it is 
the crib. In this sacred precinct, the mother's cham- 
ber, is the heart of the family. Here the child learns 
its prayer. Hither, night by night, angels troop. It 
is the holy of holies." 

The only appropriate words with which to conclude 
these reflections are those which we know so well, — • 
the words of that deep and tender woman, the Chris- 
tian Muse of the nineteenth century of Christianity, 
— words which, though we may know them, we do 
not tire of hearing : — 



IF HE SLEEP, HE SHALL DO WELL." Ill 



" Of all the thoughts of God that are 
Borne inward unto souls afar, 
Along the Psalmist's music deep, 
Now tell me if there any is 
Por gift or grace surpassing this, — 
' He giveth his beloved sleep ' ? 

O earth, so full of dreary noises ! 
. 0 men, with wailing in your voices ! 
O delved gold, the wailer's heap ! 
0 strife, 0 curse, that o'er it fall ! 
God strikes a silence through you all, 
And giveth his beloved sleep. 

His dews drop mutely on the hill ; 
His cloud above it saileth still : 
Though on its slope men sow and reap, 
More softly than the dew is shed, 
Or cloud is floated overhead, 
He giveth his beloved sleep." 



IX. 



STAND STILL. 

Job xxxvii. 14 : " Stand still, and consider the works of God." 
Eph. vi. 13: "Having done all, stand." 

THERE is a good deal of merit in being able 
to stand. It is merit, however, which is very 
liable to be undervalued. We highly prize the merit 
of going, and also that of doing ; not enough, per- 
haps, the worth of standing. It is, no doubt, a great 
merit in a horse to go. A horse is advertised to go 
so many miles an hour, so many minutes to a mile ; 
but it is considered an additional praise, even for a 
horse, that he can stand. He will " stand without 
tying," it is said. Now, if this is a merit in a horse, 
still more is it in a man. The man who will " stand 
without tying " has achieved a great moral accom- 
plishment. I mean a man who will hold his place, 
and keep it, by an internal force, not an external one. 
I mean one who will stand to truth and principle, — 
not being held to them by force of outward circum- 
stances, by the expectation of others, by the fear of 
being called inconsistent, by the bond of a creed or 



STAND STILL. 113 

I 

covenant publicly acknowledged, but by the simple 
po ,ver of inward conviction, of loyalty to conscience 
and right. 

Nature is full of types to show us the beauty of 
such steadfastness. Far in the depths of the prime- 
val forest, there stands a tree, the monarch of the 
woods. A casual seed, wafted by the summer breeze, 
found for itself a favorable spot of soil. Year after 
year it grew, — a little stalk, too small to support a 
bird ; over which the rabbit leaped as he ran; — then 
larger, a sapling. So, year by year, rooting itself 
more deeply, spreading its limbs more widely, adding 
new rings of wood to its trunk, rising higher into the 
circumambient air, visited by myriad insects, by vari- 
ous birds, it stands and grows. At last, it reaches its 
maturity, and is a mighty tree, monarch of the woods. 
Then it stands in the same place •for a hundred years, 
for five hundred years, unchanged. The white clouds 
drift over its mighty head in the infinite expanse of 
heaven. The glories of morning, the splendid hues 
of evening, the deep silence of night, pass over it. 
It stands, unmoved. Every thing comes and goes 
around it : it remains, contented in its rooted stability. 
Having done all it was meant to do, it stands. It does 
not see so much variety as the butterfly that lights 
on its leaf. The bird, who comes to make his sum- 
mer nest in its branches, could tell it a thousand 
stories of the countries he has passed through in his 
annual migrations.* But the patient tree is not sent 
to hear the news of what is happening in the world, 



114 



STAND STILL. 



but to stand. Yet what majesty in this steadfast 
repose ! And at last the traveller comes to the place, 
and gazes upward into the infinite multitude of its 
bowery recesses, its flickering lights and shades, its 
million leaves waving tremulous in the summer breeze, 
or roaring in the storm, as it lashes the air with its 
thousand branches. He thinks of it, standing through 
so many seasons, meeting the spring warmth with 
tenderly swelling buds, and stripping itself in the 
autumn to battle with skeleton arms against winter 
tempests ; and there comes over his mind the sense of 
a sublime stability, which touches some nobler cor- 
responding element in his own soul. 

Man was made, not only to see, to do, to go, to 
make progress, but also to stand. Until he has 
learned to stand, he has not learned the whole lesson 
of life. Amid all change, we desire something per- 
manent ; amid all variety, something stable ; amid all 
progress, some central unity of life ; something which 
deepens as we ascend ; which roots itself as we 
advance ; which grows more and more tenacious of 
the old, while becoming more and more open to the 
new. 

Hence the importance of being able to stand. It is 
important, first, in order to see the truth ; secondly, 
it is important, in order to retain what we have 
seen. 

First, Mental stability is good, in order to be able 
to see the truth. It is good to stand still, and con- 
sider. 



STAND STILL. 



115 



There are two ways of seeing things. One may 
go to see, or one may stand still and see. Each way 
has its advantages. If my object is to collect sepa- 
rate things, all the facts of a certain kind, I must go 
and look for them. To make a systematic collection 
of any kind of facts, we must go for them.. If I want 
all the beetles or butterflies, all the Roman coins, all 
the books printed in the fifteenth century, all the best 
ancient pictures, all the knowledge about certain men 
or times or countries, so as to write a history or a 
biography, I must go for them. The history of Greece 
will not come to me by any inspiration, while I sit in 
my garden. I must go to libraries, and hunt it up 
out of many books. A collection of autograph-letters 
will not come to me as I stand still thinking about 
them : I must write to this man and that, inquire here 
and there, and so find them. 

But if my object is, not to make a full collection, but 
to see some one thing in its relations, as it lives, vital 
and active, I can often do that better by standing 
still. Let me illustrate. A man takes his gun, and 
goes through the Western woods to shoot birds or 
other game. He finds what he goes for. He tramps 
over many miles. He pushes through wet thick- 
ets, where the long-billed woodcock flies up, or the 
pheasant whirs with sudden flight. He finds in the 
deep forest the tree to which the pigeons come at 
night to roost. The startled rabbit runs across the 
open meadow before him ; the gray or black squirrel 
springs lightly from the end of one long swinging 



116 



STAND STILL. 



branch to another. So the man comes home at night 
with what he went for, — a bag full of game. But he 
has seen none of these creatures in their natural state. 
Terror went before him. The squirrel hid behind the 
lofty limb, or ran affrighted up the other side of 
the tree -trunk; and the birds, with panic-stricken 
bosoms, hid themselves among the leaves. He has 
got some birds ; but he has not seen their life. 

Now, another man goes into the forest. Perhaps 
you have so gone yourself. You sit on a stone in the 
shade, and wait, perfectly still, to see what will come. 
As you sit, all the timid creatures come out, and you 
see them in their domestic life. The diligent birds 
bring sticks and strings to make their nests ; and, 
while they work, chirp to each other about their 
amazing architecture. The squirrel hops out of his 
hole, bringing a nut to eat in the fresh air ; and chips 
the shell with the air of an artist, spreading his bushy 
tail over his back like a shawl. All sorts of creatures 
come and go that one never sees at any other time. 
All natural history reveals itself to patient waiting 
and watching. These wonders of God, hidden from 
the wise and prudent, who know all that books teach, 
are revealed to the babes of simple, patient, attentive, 
open-eyed waiting. 

I once had occasion to wait ten minutes at one of 
the corners of the Common for a gentleman who 
appointed to meet me there. I discovered, while 
standing still, what I never had discovered in walking 
by that place, — that it was a place of general appoint- 



STAND STILL. 



117 



ments. Several little dramas occurred while I waited. 
Several persons came, and stopped, and looked up 
and down, and strolled to and fro, and came back ; and, 
at last, their friends met them, and they went away. 
A young woman came, and sat down on a bench very 
quietly. After a while, a young man arrived ; and 
each took the other's arm, and they de'parted. 

Now, I had been by that corner five hundred times 
without noticing these things ; but when I stood still 
there, and waited a few minutes, I saw them all. 

Travellers in Europe often fail of seeing what they 
ought by not standing still. They hurry with incon- 
ceivable rapidity from one place to another. They 
put themselves into the hands of a courier, and go all 
over the Continent. They give a day to Florence, and 
two days to Rome, and think they have seen Europe : 
hardly more than if they had staid at home, and read a 
guide-book. I saw a man in Venice, who had arrived 
there that morning, and was going away in the after- 
noon. He thought he had seen ever} 7 thing. We were 
sitting in a little cafe on the great square of the Duomo. 
He sat by the window, with his back to it. He did 
not even turn round, so as to look at the strange 
beauty of the scene outside the window, — the oriental 
front of the Cathedral of St. Mark, with its domes 
and mosaics, and the groups in the old historic square. 
A man must stand still to see any thing. Some of 
our American and English travellers never stand still 
long enough to receive a single deep impression of 
any place they go to. 



118 



STAND STILL. 



Now, it is the same with truth. We must stand 
still in order to receive truth in any living and pro- 
found way into our minds. It is different with us and 
with a locomotive or steam fire-engine, which, by run- 
ning, makes a draft for its fire to kindle. The fire in 
man's heart kindles while he stands still., "While I 
was musing, the fire burned." That is the difference 
between the way of getting theology and getting 
religion. If I want to get theology, which is dead 
truth, " the skins and skeletons of truth stuffed and 
set up in cases," then I must go about, and seek for 
it in books, in sermons, in this church and the other. 
I must listen to all the statements and arguments 
which I can hear : so, by and by, I get my theology. 
But, if I wish for religion, it is different. Then I must 
stand still, and consider the wonderful works of Grod. 
I must see G-od in the glory of morning, and the 
beauty of descending twilight ; in the charm of ear- 
liest birds ; in herb, tree, fruit, and flower glistering 
with dew. I must stand still each day, and think of 
what God has done for me ; how he has blessed me 
with home, friends, love, opportunity of knowledge, 
and rich influences of culture. I must consider how 
he has sent to me wise teachers, and generous, loving 
hearts, to stand by me amid the storms of life. I 
must remember how he has put dear little children in 
my arms, and holy wise men and women near me for 
my emergencies ; how he has borne with me in my 
wilfulness and pride and folly, and restrained me from 
going into irremediable evil. I must recollect how 



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119 



often, when I have gone to the very verge of some 
fatal wrong, he has put forth his hand, and held me 
back, and saved me from being an utter castaway j 
or how, when I have prayed, because I could not do 
any longer without prayer, he has hastened to meet 
my ignorant supplication, and answered it, — oh, so 
sweetly ! filling my soul down to its very depths with 
the peace of God passing all understanding ! 

So, too, I must see Christ, if at all. People per- 
plex themselves and others with infinite questions 
about him, which never have been answered, nor can 
be. Was he God ? Was he man ? Did he pre-exist ? 
What is the hypostatic union, — two natures in one 
person? They quote texts for and texts against. 
" I and my Father are one." " My Father is greater 
than I." " Before Abraham was, I am." They tear 
these poor texts from their places in the living Scrip- 
ture in order to fling them at our heads. Such 
texts, in their place, in the life of Jesus, are like 
flowers and fruits in a garden full of sweetness and 
charm. But the apples, peaches, and roses which are 
plucked from their stalks soon decay, and become 
something very different. So are texts plucked from 
their context. Take that famous text, for example : 
" I and my Father are. one." How was it spoken ? 
Some Jews wished Jesus to issue a proclamation 
that he was the Messiah. " Tell us plainly if you are 
the Christ?" they say. He answers, "See my life; 
see my works. Do you love them ? Do you see any 
thing of God in them ? * If you do, you will follow 



120 



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after me. because you belong to me. You cannot 
help following me, and keeping by. me ; and all the 
powers on earth cannot take you from me, because 
your heart will perpetually draw you to me and to 
my Father. It is one and the same thing. If you 
come to me, you come to God ; because my life is to 
you God's truth and love revealed. We are one ; 
and if you are bound to me by loving my works, and 
sympathizing with them, then you are bounql to God, 
and no one can separate you from God." 

This is the way to know Christ, then, — to stand 
still, and look at him, not to argue about him. Look 
at his majestic holiness, so grand, yet so simple and 
unpretending, which came up in Judaea, and lasted a 
few years, and then filled the centuries with its light 
and beauty. Look at his religion, so human, yet so 
divine ; a religion for this world, and the other world 
too : a religion which loves God by loving its bro- 
ther ; a religion not of any dogma, any ceremony, any 
'anxious fears, but of trust, obedience, and generous 
affection. Look at Jesus himself, the perfect revela- 
tion of God in man ; a man so manful, and, if I may 
say it, also so womanful ; a man harmonizing the best 
traits of man and woman. He was calm, deep, brave, 
a leader of men ; also tender, childlike, pure, and gen- 
tle as the best of women. Stand still, and look at 
him. Come to his feast of love, and think about him. 
Sit at his feet, and thank God that he has lived, lifting 
us above the terror of death and sin, and showing us 
heaven here and heaven hereafter. 



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121 



Next, stability in man is loyalty. It is not merely 
a passive and indolent conservatism ; it is an active 
adherence to certain convictions, duties, and affec- 
tions. Even the tree has a live hold of the earth : 
its roots are as living as its branches. It is not held 
to the ground, passively, by the law of gravitation ; 
but clings to it actively, by the law of life. Much 
more, man's stability is an active, and not a passive 
virtue. To keep to what is old, merely from an indo- 
lent reluctance to change, is less meritorious than the 
stability of a tree ; but to cling to the past, to the 
known, the loved, the dear, from loyalty, from grati- 
tude, from conscience, — this alone is noble. We 
must stand actively, not passively. We cannot even 
stand on our feet passively. It requires a constant 
effort of will and great balancing power to stand, as 
the human being stands, on two feet. The culmina- 
tion of creation came, when the animal, which had 
floated, upborne in water or air by wings or fins ; 
which had crawled on the earth, or had walked on 
four feet, — finally arose, and stood on two, and was 
able, having done all other things, to stand. I sup- 
pose it would be impossible for the most skilful 
sculptor to make a statue of a man which should 
stand on two feet. In almost all other instincts, some 
animals excel men ; but, in this of balancing himself, 
man excels them. It is easier to walk than to stand- 
in walking, we are partly passive, falling forward : 
in standing still, we are constantly holding ourselves 
upright. 



122 



STAND STILL. 



No doubt it is the destiny of man to make progress 
in truth ; to forget things behind, and reach out* to 
things before. But, unless he stands on something,, 
he cannot go forward. There must be something 
solid beneath his feet, else he cannot walk. It is not 
progress to throw away all I know to-day, in order to 
learn something else to-morrow. To advance in 
knowledge is not wholly to forget the past, but to 
take it with us. We drop much, we put away child- 
ish things, we leave the form of truth behind us, as 
the snake his skin ; but we must not leave the sub- 
stance of truth. In all mental progress, there are 
some great convictions — 

" Which wake, to perish never." 

There are some mental convictions which only deepen 
and strengthen while all other thoughts change. 
There are ideas of God, freedom, immortality, just- 
ice, truth, eternal right, infinite love, to which we 
must cling as the tree clings to the soil ; on which 
we must stand, in order to move on. 

This is the distinction between real mental pro- 
gress and that which only simulates it. We too 
often imagine that change is progress. We see 
people who go from church to church, from creed to 
creed, dropping all their past at each step they take. 
This may sometimes be necessary ; but it is an unfor- 
tunate necessity. To lighten itself off from a rock, a 
ship may have to throw its cargo overboard ; but this 
is not a good thing to do, if it can be helped. True 



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123 



intellectual progress is to add new thoughts to the 
old ones. 

The reason why so many men stick in a few opi- 
nions, and take no new ones, is, that they are not 
rooted in any thing. They are afraid to move, for 
fear of falling. They have not learned to stand ; so 
they'cannot go. It is not because they believe the 
old so strongly, that they fear the new ; but because 
they believe it so feebly. The man who is rooted in 
certain convictions is not afraid to move forward ; for 
he knows he shall not lose them. 

.Nothing is so beautiful and noble as this power of 
persistency and progress in one. It is beautiful to 
see the ship, with all sails spread, running before a 
favoring breeze, — one cloud of white canvas ; plun- 
ging forward into the dark sea, and throwing it 
from its bow in sparkling drops, and masses of foam : 
but still more beautiful it is to see the same ship 
lying to, its head to the wind, holding itself against 
the storm, without cable or anchor ; compelling the 
blast which tries to drive it back to hold it in its 
place. So noble is it to see the man lying to in the 
storm of life. He is unable to make progress ; but 
he compels the very blast of adverse circumstance to 
hold him in his place. 

The weakest of all things, perhaps, is scepticism. 
Unless a man has some fixed, clear convictions, he 
drifts helplessly through the world. He has no force 
in himself. He can do nothing. The sceptic is a 
cipher in action, because he is a cipher in convic- 



124 



STAND STILL. 



tion. The tree which, at any rate, stands for a 
thousand years, is nobler than he. Pity him, how- 
ever, and help him. He is in a morbid state. He is 
a sick man : be tender to him. Do not despise the 
sceptic ; but, if you have any faith, help him to it. 
Sympathize with him ; for some of his disease is in 
us all. We all of us are obliged to pray, " Lord, I 
believe: help thou mine unbelief!" 

But one source of scepticism is in the false idea 
that we are wholly passive in our belief. It is not 
so. When God shows us a truth, it is our duty to 
cling to it. When we have seen any great idea, we 
must not let it go, but stand to it firmly and loyally. 
A man can be loyal in thought no less than in action. 
He is disloyal, if, having seen a truth, he lets it go 
through indifference ; if curiosity is stronger in him 
than conviction; if he loves novelty more than 
reality. 

Again : he who can stand firm in his convictions, 
and be loyal to his insights, is able to be also loyal 
to his duties. Having done all, he can stand. 

In the ruins of Pompeii, after they have shown 
you the great amphitheatre, the streets, the forum, the 
. shops, the houses, the villas, they take you through 
the gate, and show you the stone sentry-box, where 
were found, buried in ashes, the rusted remains of 
the helmet and cuirass of the Koman sentinel. 
When the black cloud rose from the mountain, and 
the hot ashes fell around him, and the people rushed 
by him from the city in their frantic flight, he could 



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125 



do nothing else, but he could stand; and so he stood, 
and died in his place, suffocated by the sulphury- 
air. He was buried deep beneath the ashes j and so, 
after fifteen hundred years, his disinterred remains 
testify to the nobleness which stands to its post when 
it can do nothing else. 

It is perhaps the highest kind of courage, this of 
standing to our post, no matter whether we seem to 
succeed or to fail. For this, we dwell so often, with 
tearful eyes, on the story of the heady fight, when 
young men stand firm at their post, though conscious 
that it is in vain. The three hundred at Thermopyla3, 
the six hundred at Balaklava, the Fifteenth and 
Twentieth Massachusetts at Ball's Bluff, — these are 
more heroic instances than the men who shared the 
triumphs of victorious days. Having done all, they 
stood, and stood to die. They stood, hour after hour, 
while the long waves of battle rolled up against 
them; stood, hearing the wild yells of the over- 
whelming masses brought up to crush them. 

" Not theirs to reason why, 
Not theirs to make reply ; 
Theirs but to do, or die." 

Such moments of heroic courage indicate to us all 
what is the real nobleness of life. It is to do all, and 
then stand ; to stand firm to our duty, loyal to right, 
faithful to justice and truth, whether men hear or 
forbear. This makes it worth while to live. If a 
man only lives for success, he is poor and cowardly 
when disaster comes. Then we hear him finding 



126 



STAND STILL. 



fault, complaining, lamenting, fearing every thing; 
throwing doubt on every thing ; talking like the 
book of Ecclesiastes, not like the book of Revela- 
tion. " There is no good thing," he says, " under 
the sun. All men are rascals ; all life is vanity. 
Every thing goes wrong. There is no hope for the 
world." The man who thus talks is one who has 
never lived for duty and right at all, only for success 
or show. 

But he who has once seen the majestic face of Duty, 
who has once for all taken her as his queen, with 
submission and service, feels a stern joy in the midst 
of all disaster, a strange hope born in the bosom of 
disappointment, a joy of success amid failure. He 
says, " When I am weak, then I am strong." God is 
on his side : what shall he fear? "'He is troubled on 
every side, yet not distressed ; perplexed, but not in 
despair,* persecuted, but not forsaken; cast down, 
but not destroyed." Nothing shakes his solid mind. 
And if this is noble ; if it is a grateful sight to the 
higher powers to see the good man struggling with 
the storms of fate, — why is it not also grateful to God 
and the angels to see the man, who is not triumphantly 
virtuous, struggling- against inbred sin, against habits 
of evil inherited or self-formed ? He is unable to con- 
quer, perhaps he is unable to be wholly good ; yet he 
will not yield. He will stand against evil, if he can 
do no more. 

There is yet another loyalty, another kind of per- 
sistence, as deep as these other two, — loyalty to 



STAND STILL. 



127 



love. To stand firm, rooted in pure and true affec- 
tions ; to love the noble, the generous, the good, 
without regard to any return on their part, — this is 
also excellent. 

When I see persons, who, having had friends, have 
lost them, and who complain of having been deceived 
and mistaken, I think they never loved aright. The 
true affections are as permanent as God himself. 
That which I have really loved I continue to love for 
ever. I may not see my friend for many years. I 
may be separated in life and action. He may leave 
me for another world. He may be tired of me. But 
if I have really loved in him any thing good ; if I 
have ever seen in him any thing truly excellent, 
beautiful, and noble, — it is there still; and I must 
love it still, in order to be true to myself. The heart 
which has not this persistency of affection is super- 
ficial and cold. Of all the beautiful things in this 
world, one of the most beautiful is the undying affec- 
tion of father and child ; of brother and sister ; of 
friends who have been friends from childhood to man- 
hood ; of those who, through long years of prosperity 
and disaster, still work together, go on together, pur- 
sue the same aim, live the same life. This unselfish 
love is itself the germ and beginning of the love of 
God. This love, so steadfast to the good and right 
in man, leads us up to the sole Fair and the sole True. 
It is comfort ; it is joy ; it is heaven. It gives unity 
of purpose to life, and strength to the weary in 
soul. 



128 



STAND STILL. 



Perhaps this war will be the means of developing 
a higher national life in this people, by teaching us to 
stand ; and to stand, not on prosperity and success, 
but on principle. We have had our great prosperity 
and success, and have been elated. We are now 
denounced and opposed by the whole civilized world. 
It has happened to us, as it happens so often, that our 
punishment for sin was postponed until we had begun 
to repent and to do right. It often happens so. 
While men are going wrong, every thing prospers. 
As soon as they begin to go right, the consequences 
of their previous sins begin to fall on them. Perhaps 
it is because the nation or the men who begin to do 
right have begun to be strong, and are better able to 
bear their punishments. 

But now, if God deals with us as with sons, and is ' 
chastening us, it will be for our profit.* We as a 
nation, in our hour of darkness, will perhaps grow 
inwardly more strong. We have learned in past 
times to grow, to act, and to go forward. We have 
been a very fast people. We have always wished to 
go ahead : now perhaps we shall learn how to stand. 
The old loyalty to our national history, which we 
thought dead, broke forth in 1861, in a flame of light, 
at the siege of Sumter. We rose as a people to 
stand by the flag. Having learned to stand by the 
flag, we may also learn to stand by what the flag 
symbolizes ; to stand up for equal rights, for univer- 
sal freedom, for justice to all, for a true democracy, 
for general rights. 



STAND STILL. 



129 



Thus man, the microcosm, resumes in himself all 
that is to be found in nature. He stands rooted, like 
the tree, in principles ; he moves, like the bird, in the 
element of freedom ; he is fed, like the flower, by 
the sunlight and air and rain from the skies ; and, 
like the round globe 'itself, he hangs poised in the 
eternal heavens, moving on in the orbit of duty 
around the everlasting Sun, which is God himself, the 
same for ever and for ever. 

So, my friends, life goes on. Let us live it as we 
ought ; standing still, from time to time, to see and 
consider God's works, and then going out to do them; 
standing in our place, and looking from our place, 
and always loyal and faithful at our place. God 
sends times for work, and times for consideration. 
He sends us homes, where we may go and rest and 
consider. He sends calm evening and dewy night, 
the companionship of wise and loving hearts, and 
the peace of this holy day. Into these oratories of 
thought, love, and prayer, let us go to consider and 
ponder ; and then let us take hold of life, and do the 
great will of the Master, and let life be better for 
our being in it ; and when we are old, if God grants 
us to be old, we shall look from that mountain-top of 
age into the promised land of a rejoicing and happy 
future. 



9 



X. 



GROW UP. 

Eph. iv. 15 : " Speaking the truth in love,, grow up in all 

THINGS INTO HIM WHICH IS THE HEAD, EVEN CHRIST." 

ONE object of life is to grow. If any one grows, 
if he grows up, if he grows up in all things, if 
he grows up in all things into Christ, then he has 
attained one great end for which God placed him 
here. This seems a different statement from the old 
catechism statement, that the end of man's being is 
" to glorify God, and enjoy him for ever." Yet it 
is only the same thing in another form. For how do 
we glorify God ? By praising him, by singing hymns 
to him, by calling him omnipotent and omniscient? 
Certainly not. " Herein is my Father glorified, that 
ye bear much fruit: so shall ye be my disciples." 
That is what Christ says, that we glorify God when 
we bear much fruit ; and we cannot do that unless we 
grow. Therefore, to grow up vigorously and sym- 
metrically, and in all things, into Christ, is to glorify 
God. 

Pope gives still another definition of the object of 
life. It is happiness : — 



GROW UP. 



131 



" 0 happiness ! our being's end and aim, — 
Good, pleasure, ease, content, whate'er thy name ; 
That something still which prompts the eternal sigh, 
For which we bear to live, or dare to die." 

But this also comes to the same thing. For what 
surer way to happiness than lies in the unfolding of 
all the faculties, the exercise of all the powers, the 
development of all the capacities of our nature, the 
various accomplishment, the daily progress, all of 
which are included in the word "growth"? To grow 
up is happiness ; to grow up is to glorify God. 

The Bible, therefore, is full of indications and simi- 
litudes drawn from growth. " The righteous/ 7 says 
David, " shall grow like a cedar in Lebanon." Any 
one, who has ever seen these noble trees, will under- 
stand the force of the comparison. In my last ser- 
mon, I took a tree as the type of stability : now I 
take it again as a type of growth. A cedar of Leba- 
non is growing in the Garden of Plants, in Paris. 
It is a majestic tree, spreading out its great lateral 
branches, each sustaining a mass of deep-green foli- 
age. But on the blue sides of Lebanon, in their own 
congenial climate, these noble trees made each a 
temple for the worship of God. Centuries of growth 
had hardened their imperishable and fragrant wood. 
Their vast limbs, each a tree in itself, spread out, 
heavy with leaves, making a home for all the birds of 
the air. What better type of Christian growth than 
this patient, constant, unceasing growth of one of 
these great forest-kings ? It may be a cedar of Leba- 



132 



GEOW UP. 



non ; or a tall elm in a New-England valley, standing 
in solitary grace, an urn of waving greenery ; or a 
Norway fir, spreading its robes, like a duchess, over 
the white snow of its native mountains ; or a live oak, 
sheltering with its great shadow the men and cattle 
on a Louisiana plantation, till the cruel bell calls again 
to labor ; or perhaps it is a tulip-tree, covered with 
yellow flowers, on the plains of Kentucky ; or a lofty 
California fir, the gigantic monarch of the forest, 
looking out from his snowy Sierra upon the blue Paci- 
fic. They stand firm in their place. They grow year 
by year, adding something to the density of their 
fibre, something to their expanse and elevation. Yet 
they become little children again every year. They 
renew their youth in myriad tender buds, little fra- 
gile leaves, and sweet childish blossoms. So they 
are the type of what is best in man, — steady growth 
in all that is great and strong, joined with a youth of 
the heart ever renewed by faith and love. 

Yet it is not enough to grow : we must grow up. 
Some trees do not grow up. If you go to the summit 
of Mt. Washington, just before you reach the top, 
you will find yourself walking on the tops of trees. 
They are true trees ; but, stunted by the cold, and 
beaten down by storms which rage around the bleak 
brow of the mountain, they spread themselves on the 
ground, and cannot rise. So it sometimes is with 
man. Discouraged by difficulty, he loses his power 
of rising. He loses faith and hope. He clings to 
the ground. It is sad to see so many men losing faith 



GEOW UP. 



133 



as they gain experience ; growing more worldly, and 
calling their worldliness good sense. It is an unnatu- 
ral state of mind. Man ought to grow up as he 
grows old ; to have more faith in God and man ; to 
enlarge his horizon ; to see more of the past and the 
future ; to live more among the things which are 
unseen, but eternal. Such a man inspires others ; 
elevates others ; brings others to new hope ; gives 
them new encouragement; Jhelps them to see God 
in Nature, Providence, and Christ, and in their own 
hearts ; helps them to look on life cheerfully, and on 
death without anxiety, as God meant that we should. 

" To each unthinking being, Heaven, a friend, 
Gives not the useless knowledge of its end : 
To man imparts it, but with such a view, 
That, while he dreads it, makes him hope it too. 
The hour concealed, and so remote the fear; 
Death still draws nearer, never seeming near." 

Some men and trees grow down, and not up. You 
will see trees by the side of a river, all bending down 
toward the running stream, stretching their arms to- 
ward it as if to bathe in the cool, rushing waters. 
No matter what their forms are elsewhere : by the 
side of running water, they all bow down to it. It 
is the nature of the arbor-vitas to grow upward : 
but, around Niagara, it assumes fantastic forms ; and 
there it stoops toward the torrent, leaning down, 
reaches its long branches into it, and becomes as 
strange and weird a tree as the old olive-trees of 
Italy, which seem half trees, half men. So, by the 
side of the rushing river of business which roars 



134 



GROW UP. 



every day through the streets of Boston, how many 
men acquire a habit of stooping down, and leaning 
down, and reaching down, till they forget that it is 
the great distinction of man to stand erect, to look up 
to the sky, and abroad over the earth, as even a 
Heathen poet knew ! — 

" Os homini sublime dedit, coelumque tueri 
Jussit, et erectos ad sidera tollere vultus," 

But it is not enough to grow up : we must grow up 
in all things. In a dense old forest, where the wood- 
man has never gone with his axe, you will find all 
sorts of trees looking very much alike. They have 
lost their individuality. They all strain up and up 
toward the light, till they look like the pine. The 
elm loses its queenly grace ; the oak, its manly and 
rugged strength; the maple, its elliptical mass of 
dense, green foliage ; the birch, its waving, feathery 
branches ; the beech, its pendent, flowing, glitter- 
ing, sunlit surfaces : and all grow up, straight shafts, 
in gloomy monotony. They grow up; but that is 
not the only duty of a tree. Its duty is to spread 
itself out, and assume its typical form, which God 
gave it as a law, when it was a little seed, and told 
it to grow into that. 

Religious people have often made a like mistake. 
They have thought it their only business to strain up 
to heaven ; to drop off all their lateral branches, and 
cultivate a monotonous and gloomy piety. But when 
God made us, and put into us so many faculties and 



GROW UP. 



135 



powers of body and soul, lie thereby commanded us 
to unfold them. He did not make all men alike ; nor 
did he mean that all men should be ascetic saints or 
austere pietists. He meant that we should love him, 
but love our brother also, and our earthly life too. God 
is pleased with us when we grow up in all things into 
Christ ; not in one thing only. He loves to see men 
with well- developed bodies; with good perceptive 
organs ; with sharp eyes and keen senses ; with ac- 
tive and agile limbs, capable of performance and 
endurance ; with bright intellects, capable of reason- 
ing and judging, of comparing and reflecting. God 
has given men the sense of beauty, and made the 
earth full of it, that this sense might have exercise. 
He has given us poetry and imagination, wit and 
mirth ; and do you suppose he did not mean they 
should be used ? There is nothing profane in the 
human soul ; nothing common or unclean. It is all 
through the temple of God ; and it is sacrilege to 
waste or neglect or injure any part of it. If a thief 
breaks into a Catholic church, and steals a necklace 
from the doll image which stands for the Virgin, it is 
considered not only wrong as theft, but horribly sin- 
ful as sacrilege. He might rob a poor family, and 
leave them to starve, and it would not be thought 
half as bad as to take this useless ornament. But 
this same church, and other churches too, encourage 
a form of religion which crushes down a large part of 
those faculties in man which are the ornament and 
glory of the human soul. They consider such repres- 



136 



GKOW UP. 



sion as only a proper self-denial. But if man is the 
" temple of God,' 7 then why is it not the worst sacri- 
lege to starve or crush any of his faculties, — those 
powers with which he serves and worships God most 
acceptably ? 

" Grow up in all things, therefore." True educa- 
tion is worship. Eight development is the service of 
God. 

This doctrine of universal development, as the aim 
and end of man's being, was taught perhaps more 
fully, and exemplified most entirely, in modern times, 
by the great German poet Goethe. He framed his 
whole life on that idea. His object was self-develop- 
ment. Accordingly, he was not satisfied with the 
triumphs he obtained in poetry and literature ; but 
he devoted himself to science, and won new dis- 
tinctions there. He also educated himself to busi- 
ness, and became one of the most practical and 
sensible of the ministers of the Grand Duke. He 
spent a long life in this process of self-development. 
Let him have the credit of it. Certainly it was a far 
more noble end than the mere pursuit of fame, of 
fortune, or of power. He sacrificed fame, fortune, 
and power, when they came in conflict with this 
object. His life, thus devoted, " without haste or 
rest," to this one large and deep idea, is a lesson to 
mankind of a truer use of genius than genius often 
shows. 

Yet we must add that this is not all. There is 
something more. " Grow up" " Grow up in all 



GROW UP. 



137 



things ; " but also " grow up in all things into him 
who is our Head, even Christ." This is what Goethe, 
with all his wisdom, failed to see. This is what 
makes the apostolic maxim wiser than his. To grow 
up is an end, but not the final end. Grow up, in or- 
der to grow up into Christ. That is, since Christ is 
another name for generous Love, cultivate and unfold 
all powers in order to do good, for the sake of help- 
ing, saving, inspiring, guiding, animating, encouraging 
other souls. Develop all your powers, but for univer- 
sal usefulness. 

In my youth, I had a friend who was a woman of 
genius. She studied Goethe, and was thoroughly 
familiar with his thought. She also adopted it as 
her rule, and said she early learned that the only 
object of life was to grow. With wonderful, untiring 
energy, she pursued this end, and cultivated every 
power and faculty to the highest point. She was an 
extraordinary woman, yet not then altogether a satis- 
factory woman. There was something haughty and 
self-reliant, some absence of sympathy, some contempt 
for common people, which hurt you in intercourse 
with her. To her friends, she was all generosity; but, 
to others, indifferent and unsympathizing. But God 
did not mean that such a noble soul should stop there. 
Being so much, he meant she should be more ; and so 
he took her through a deep experience of weakness 
and sorrow, through lonely days, through poverty 
and pain ; and, at last, she had learned to add this 
crowning grace of human sympathy and tenderness 



138 



GROW UP. 



to all the rest. She grew up into Christ, and de- 
voted all these ripe and rich powers to the cause of 
his poor, his wounded and prisoners, his enslaved 
and oppressed ones ; and so the woman of genius be- 
came at last also the Christian woman, risen with 
Christ, and sitting in heavenly places with him. 

One method of growth is mentioned in the text, — 
" Speaking the truth in love." It is not usually 
thought that growth comes by " speaking : " it is 
thought we get our Christian growth rather by hear- 
ing truth than by uttering it. If we were to exhort 
a church now, we should be more likely to say to it, 
" Hearing the truth meekly, grow up into Christ." 
But Paul was not in the habit of writing without a 
clear meaning ; and he meant what he said, that the 
Church should grow by speaking as well as by hear- 
ing. If hearing truth is our food, speaking it is 
our exercise. We need exercise, as well as food, in 
order to grow ; and, as a matter of fact, we see that 
only those really grow up into a manly stature who 
have the courage and loyalty which make them speak 
the truth which they have seen. This is the daily 
gymnastic exercise of the Christian, — to utter faith- 
fully, by action and word, his convictions, in the pre- 
sence of those who do not share them ; to testify to 
the truth, whether men will hear or forbear ; to be a 
burning and a shining light in the world ; and yet to 
do all this, not ostentatiously, but modestly ; not 
sharply, but kindly ; not in severity, but in love. If 
the spirit of Christ dwells in us, a spirit of truth and 



GROW UP. 



139 



.love, we can do it. We see men who can do it, 
and perhaps oftener women. We see those who con- 
trive to be faithful, without giving offence ; who can 
say truth, which is like a sharp sword, and yet say it 
so lovingly and gently that no one can be displeased. 
Such people are the salt of the earth ; and while they 
keep it from decay, while they preserve society pure, 
and public opinion sound, they grow up themselves in 
all things into Christ. They become more Christ-like 
every day, more divine and more human, more near 
to God and to us. They fill us with their peace, joy, 
and trust. They make life more hopeful and precious 
to us all. 



XL 



LIFE WEARINESS. 
Eccles. i. 2: "Vanity op vanities, saith the preacher; 

VANITY OP VANITIES ; ALL IS VANITY." 

f I ^0 one man, every thing is vanity ; to another, no- 
thing. To Solomon, satiated with pleasure, the 
world seemed very empty ; but to every earnest man 
and woman it is very full and significant. Scepticism 
finds no meaning in life ; but faith, hope, and love 
find life very full of meaning. We are all of us 
sometimes like King Solomon, and say, 11 All is vani- 
ty ; " but we are also all of us sometimes like Paul, 
and sav, " All things work together for good to those 
who love G-od." In other words, life seems very 
empty and very weary to those who live one way ; 
but very rich, full, and significant to those who live 
in another way. 

I know no greater misery than this condition of 
life-weariness. It is not a very uncommon state 
of mind. It happens more often with the young than 
with e older persons. They are tired of life before 
they have begun to live. Such is the state of the 



LIFE WEARINESS. 



141 



present generation. They are "born fatigued," as 
some one says. Children in their early teens write 
verses, in which they declare themselves to have ex- 
hausted life. They have seen every thing, and 
nothing is of value. " Omnia fui, nihil expedit," as a 
Roman emperor said. They have just come to the 
feast, and are already satisfied. 

The pretence, the affectation, the assumption, of 
this state of mind is ridiculous enough ; but some- 
times it is considered a religious duty to take no 
interest in any thing. A Christian, it is supposed, 
ought not to care for any thing but the world to 
come. He should abstract himself from this life and 
all its interests, and think only of death and eternity. 
This theory of Christianity seems to assume that 
God did not make this world ; that God is not in it ; 
that there is no such thing as Providence arranging 
life, and guiding it. For if this world is God's 
world ; if God is in it, around us, above us, beneath, 
within, — then life, the present life, being full of 
God, is the life eternal. Then he who despises it 
despises God. Such is the impiety belonging to all 
forms of monastic religion ; to the monasticism of 
Protestantism, no less than that of Catholicism. A 
Catholic monk may live apart from the world, and yet 
not despise it : but how many Protestants there are, 
believing themselves pious because they look with 
austere eyes on all the joy and activity of the world ; 
on all the gayety of youth ; on all the glory of nature, 
the beauty of art, the achievements of genius ; on 



142 



LIFE WEARINESS. 



all the humble pleasures of the uneducated but 
honest children of God, who receive life as a gift 
from his hands not to be despised ! Because Solo- 
mon, blase with pleasure, a mere voluptuary, a self- 
indulgent man of the world, heaping up knowledge 
simply for his own enjoyment, — because he found 
life at last empty, therefore it is supposed to be the 
duty of Christian men and women to despise this 
great gift of G-od to us all. 

Sometimes also it is thought to be very sagacious 
to be cynical, and to sneer at life as stale, flat, and 
unprofitable. A person takes a position of superiority, 
as though he was acquainted with many worlds, and, 
on the whole, thought this a poor one. To despise 
the world is taken as a proof that one knows the 
world very well. Therefore certain persons indulge 
themselves in an amiable misanthropy. They are 
very good and kind at heart ; but they love to talk of 
the degeneracy of the times, to say that the former 
days were better than these, to declare the world 
going to decay. I rode to town last summer, sitting 
fifteen minutes by the side of one of these gentle- 
men ; and I was told more about the desperate state 
of the times than I had learned in ten years before. 
He told me that there was no virtue in public men 
now, no knowledge in scholars, no taste in writers, no 
piety or capacity in preachers, no good anywhere. I 
told him that there was comfort then ; that such a 
desperate state of things must be the sign of Christ's 
coming. He thought not : he thought Christ would 



LIFE WEARINESS. 



143 



not condescend to come to a generation that had de- 
serted all the old conservative landmarks, as this had 
done. So differently do we see things ! I had lived 
among those whose faces were to the future ; who saw 
the mighty rose of dawn in the eastern sky, like the 
face of God himself ; and who thanked God every day 
for being permitted to live in such a time. Meanwhile 
my conservative neighbor was looking the other way 
into the departing night, and grieving for the seces- 
sion of the owls and bats. 

What makes life seem empty ? and what, on the 
other hand, makes it seem rich and full? 

Genius, the universal artist, has painted four pic- 
tures of this disease of life-weariness, and hung them 
in the galleries of human thought, to warn us for 
ever of the dangers that lie in this direction of intel- 
lectual despair. ' 

First, The genius of inspiration has painted for 
us, in the book of Ecclesiastes, the portrait of Solo- 
mon, as the first type of this terrible disease. The 
book of Ecclesiastes is full of this dreary scepticism. 
Solomon had tried every thing, — riches, power, plea- 
sure, knowledge, — and found them all vanity ; and 
so he went about to despair of all his labor which he 
had taken under the sun. Why? Because of his 
gigantic egotism ; because he had made himself the 
centre of all things ; because he had brought every 
thing — wealth, knowledge, pleasure — to Solomon to 
try ; because he had considered the world made for 
him, instead of considering himself made for the 



144 



LIFE WEARINESS. 



world. Therefore this desperate gloom, this black 
darkness of doubt. For it is with us in life as with 
the systems of Ptolemy and Copernicus. Consider 
your own earth in the middle of the universe, and 
regard all the suns, planets, and stars as moving 
around you as their centre, and the most inextrica- 
ble confusion results. There is on]y an unmeaning 
going forward and backward among the planets, end- 
less tangles of curves, without object and without 
result. But go out of this subjective theory, identify 
yourself with universal law, conceive of the sun as 
the centre, and your planet, as well as others, to go 
round it, and all becomes fair and lovely in the planet- 
ary movements ; all is full of charm, and a divine 
order reigns in the deep heavens. So when we put 
ourselves morally in the centre of things, and con- 
sider every thing meant to revolve round us, all is 
confusion in the moral world ; and not till we make 
God the centre, and follow his attraction in our orbit 
of obedience and faith, does order arise out of the 
seeming contradictions of our life. 

I consider, therefore, the book of Ecclesiastes as 
an inspired picture of a great scepticism, born of a 
great self-seeking. 

A second picture is given us by Shakespeare in 
"Hamlet.' 7 That wonderful master has shown his 
knowledge of human nature in nothing more than in 
being able to project himself out of his own time, 
which was one of action and endeavor, into an age 
not yet arrived, in which thought was in excess ^ver 



LIFE WEARINESS. 



145 



life ; an age " sicklied o'er with the pale cast of 
thought." Hamlet belongs to our time, rather than 
to the day of Shakespeare. His disease is one we 
know very well. When he says, — 

"How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable 
Seem to me all the uses of this' world ! " — 

he says just what Solomon said, but not from the 
same motive. It was not a gigantic despair, born of 
a gigantic selfishness ; but it was one which came 
from the ideal and imaginative nature being devel- 
oped out of all proportion to the active. If a man 
is always- thinking of great things which may be 
done, noble deeds, vast creations, a beautiful life to 
lead, a good character to form, and never begins to 
do any thing, then he falls at last into a condition like 
that of Hamlet. The cure for this is to do some- 
thing, — some conscientious, faithful work, — some 
thorough, steady, regular occupation. For to be 
always thinking of what ought to be done, and never 
doing it, is sure to end in despondency and madness 
at last. 

Then, in our day, two other highly gifted poets 
have given us the same picture of life-weariness, 
but springing from yet another root. Goethe in his 
" Faust," and Byron in his " Childe Harold," have 
painted the malady of the century then passing away. 
The disease of the eighteenth century was the want 
of faith. It did not believe in God. I do not mean 
that it was irreligious : it was sufficiently religious 

10 



146 LIFE WEARINESS. 

in the sense of attending to religious forms and cere- 
monies. It built hundreds of churches in England, 
precise, formal, the image of that religion, the essence 
of which was propriety ; * but it believed in religion, 
not in God. As* has been well said, " Instead of hav- 
ing God for its religion, it had religion for its God." 
The Father, the Friend, the Divine Providence, the 
Spirit which has its seat in every soul, the Love which 
moves in the depth of every heart, the Divinity 
which shapes our ends, — this God had disappeared 
from the faith of the eighteenth century ; and there- 
fore the nineteenth was born an orphan child, " with- 
out God and hope in the world." This state of things 
Goethe painted in his " Faust," and Byron in " Childe 
Harold." The immense popularity of these two 
books came from their exposing the condition of 
every heart. The first step toward cure was taken 
when the disease* was fully painted. Faust, rich in 
all genius and knowledge, had lost his childlike faith. 
The Easter bells, and the Easter song of the women 
and angels, touch his heart only through the memory. 
When they sing outside of his study, " Christ is 
arisen, the joy of those who love ! " Faust replies, 



* " Mamma," said a little English girl to her mother, " is not Mr. 
A. a very wicked man % " 

" No, my dear : why do you think so ? " 

" Because he never puts his face into his hat when he comes into 
his pew at church." * . 

,The anecdote gives a very good idea of the old-fashioned Church- 
of-England religion. 



LIFE WEARINESS. 



147 



" I hear you, 0 heavenly tones, mighty and tender ! 
I hear the message well ; but faith is wanting in my 
heart. My tears flow ; but the earth claims me 
again." 

" Without God, and without hope in the world/' — 
such w T as the life as well as the song of the greatest 
English poet of the century, whose wonderful genius 
uttered only one long wail of despair. On him all gifts 
of nature and fortune were wholly wasted. To him 
poetry brought no calm ; love, no joy ; success, no 
peace. His human heart, made for God, and having 
no God, broke, because it was so alone in the 
world.* 

We have seen what makes life empty. Now we can 
see what makes it rich and full. 

First, plenty of work makes it full. The day- 
laborer, who lives close to Nature in his regularity of 
toil, who goes out of himself in steady, continuous 
action, has health and content in his heart, born of 
daily work. When we pray, " Give us to-day our 
daily bread," we may well pray that it may be given 



* Very well to Byron applies what Mrs. Browning says so tenderly 
of Cowper : — 

" While thus guided, he remained 

Unconscious of the guiding; 
And things provided came, without 

The sweet sense of providing. 
He testified the solemn truth, 

Though frenzy desolated, — 
Nor man nor nature satisfy 

What only God created." 



148 



LIFE WEARINESS. 



to us in healthy toil. Work is the real bread which 
comes down from heaven; and is gathered every 
morning by man, going forth to his labor. Work 
gives balance and regularity to all the movements of 
the soul. It drives all diseased fancies out of the 
mind. The condition, however, is, that it shall be 
really work, not the show of it; that we shall put 
ourselves wholly into it for the time ; that we shall 
not work mechanically nor reluctantly, but with our 
thoughts present, our heart in it as well as our 
hands. To be doing one thing, and thinking of some- 
thing else, is very bad for the soul. I have lately 
been reading the " Biographies of English Iron- 
workers and Tool-makers " (a most interesting book, 
by Smiles), in which he describes such men as Bra- 
mah and Nasmyth, who put their whole mind into 
what they did, and so became really heroic charac- 
ters. From the smut and blackness of the forge 
and machine-shop, they came out the strong leaders 
of England, in its march of civilization. While the 
aristocracy of the land Were wasting its strength in 
foolish wars of conquest, these men were adding, by 
industrial inventions, a hundred million of men to its 
power, and thousands of millions of pounds sterling 
to its wealth. They are the creators of the strength 
and wealth of England to-day. 

Necessary labor is the great blessing of life to the 
mass of men, the great educator of character to all 
men. Labor, into which thought and heart go, is the 
moral salvation of us all. We can never do without 



LIFE WEARINESS. 



149 



it. In the midst of all care and trial, work keeps ns 
healthy and happy. After Nasmyth had invented the 
steam-hammer, which can cut in two a log of iron, 
weld an anchor, or crack a nut without bruising the 
meat, he gave up this business, and rested himself by 
making a telescope, and studying the heavens ; and 
he has already, within a year or two, made some 
remarkable discoveries in the solar atmosphere, which 
Sir John Herschel declares to be among the greatest 
discoveries of the time. 

Work, then, makes life rich and full. 

But so also does love. Passion, appetite, desire, 
devastate the soul, and leave it a desert j but love, 
which goes out of itself, which takes a hearty interest 
in others, which seeks every opportunity of helping 
those who need help, which is ingenious in resources 
to bless and comfort the sorrowing and needy, — this 
keeps " the world's unwithered countenance fresh as 
on creation's day." Friendship makes the earth seem 
rich and full. To know that there are some souls, hearts 
and minds, here and there, who trust us, and whom we 
trust ; some who know us, and whom we know ; some 
on whom we can always rely, and who will always 
rely on us, — makes a paradise of this great world. 
0 solitary and bereaved hearts, who feel yourselves 
lonely ! believe that there is this solace, if you seek 
it. Go and help in any good work, with earnest good 
will, and you will find that those who are working 
there in the same spirit have become your friends. 
Do not seek to be loved, but seek to be and do some- 



150 



LIFE WEARINESS. 



thing really good, and love will come of itself ; for 
here, as always, it is truest, that, if you "give, it 
shall be given you, — full measure, pressed down and 
running over." 

That which makes this earth seem solid, and not 
empty, is not the rocks and mountains that are in it, 
but the love that is in it. The only really solid thing 
in this universe is love. This makes our life really 
life. This makes us immortal while we are here. 
This makes us sure that death is no end, but only a 
beginning, to us and to all we love. God showers 
this blessing on us day by day, if we will only receive 
it. He sends us messages of his love in the morning 
planets and the rosy clouds of the early day. He 
sends us messages of love in the fresh air which kisses 
our cheek; in the sweet little children around our 
path ; in the dear friends who make life full of interest 
and charm ; in the opportunities of usefulness, of im- 
provement, of progress, which come hour by hour, 
day by day ; in all the grand events of history ; in the 
noble struggles of our nation in this hour of trial ; in 
the grand courage of our brothers and sons, going 
to lay down their lives for their dear mother-land. 
God's infinite love comes to us daily in all these 
events and opportunities ; and how can any one say 
that " all is vanity," when such inspirations are open 
to the soul ? 

Love, therefore, joining hands with faith and work, 
makes our life rich and full. These three, neither of 
them alone; work which is done in love, love which 



LIFE WEARINESS. 



151 



is born of faith. And it is a blessed thing, that, the 
longer we live thus, the more beautiful the world 
becomes, the more rich and precious our life seems. 
It is the young who are oftenest tired of life. As 
we live on, we seem to grow younger, not older ; we 
find ourselves coming nearer to God and man ; we 
grow more like little children in our hearts. There- 
fore we see so often that beautiful picture of old age 
and childhood forming the loveliest friendship ; the 
old man with white hair, and with the wisdom of 
years treasured up in his large experience, being the 
companion and best friend of little curly-headed boys 
and girls, who are never so happy as with him. Beau- 
tiful is age when it does not grow hard and cold, but 
grows evermore full of faith and love. The old man 
looks backward through a life in which he has learned 
to know the wonders of Nature, to know the heart and 
thoughts of many varieties of human character; in 
which he has done his part in the world in his own 
place, doing faithfully whatever he has done. He 
looks back over the long perspective, and he sees how 
kindly God has led him on ; how he has been taught 
by disappointment and success ; how he has gone deep 
into his own heart, gathered up wisdom, become truly 
free by self-control and self-direction; he sees how he 
has ceased to think of God as Power and Law, and 
come to think of him as Friend and Father. And so 
he wonders that he ever could have been weary of 
life ; so he feels the infinite riches of the universe ; 
so he thanks God, not with words, but in the depths of 



152 



LIFE WEARINESS. 



a happy heart, for the gift of existence ; so he looks 
on all things as G-od looked on them, when he made 
thern and says, " It is all good." 
Thus we see how, by true living, — 

" More and more a providence 
Of love is understood ; 
Making the springs of time and sense 
Sweet with eternal good." 



XII. 

THE FKAGMENTS. 
John vi. 12 : " Gather up the fragments that remain, that 

NOTHING BE LOST." 




WO facts strike us in regard to Nature : one is its 
exuberance ; the other, its economy. 



The exuberance of Nature appears everywhere. 
There is everywhere a surplus, — a large margin over 
and above what is necessary. In what immense 
spaces the planets swim through the heavens ! The 
moon, nearest to us, is two hundred thousand miles 
away. What vast spaces in the universe are empty 
of planet, sun or star, comet or nebula ! Then, on the 
earth, what latitude is given to the ocean ! What 
vast portions of every continent are empty ! China, 
with its three nundred millions of inhabitants, has 
great forests, deserts, and mountains, where no one 
dwells. Massachusetts is much the most densely set- 
tled State in the Union ; but, if you ride on the cars 
from Boston to Providence, it seems, for a great part 
of the way, as if you were going through an uninhab- 
ited country. New York, with its three millions of 



154 



THE FRAGMENTS. 



people, Pennsylvania and Ohio, each with their two 
millions, have enough rich farming land and woodland 
to give homes to the whole population of the United 
States, and leave room enough for twice as many 
more. What quantities of trees grow, stand, fall, and 
decay, unused and unseen by man ! What flowers 
come and go every summer day in the thousand val- 
leys, never noticed ! What fruit ripens and - falls 
uneaten by man or beast ! What myriads of seeds 
are produced for one that germinates ! How luxuri- 
ant is the aspect of Nature ! — its infinite showers of 
light 1 ; its treasures of rain and snow ; its abundance 
of every thing ; its generous superfluity, — 

" Wild above rule or art, enormous bliss ! " 

So in the nature of man is the same exuberance, the 
same abundance in his faculties and his experience. 
Our life is not tied down to any mechanical rigor of 
performance. We have time enough, opportunity 
enough, faculty enough, for every thing. What we 
cannot do to-day, we can do to-morrow. What we can- 
not do one way, we can do another. There is plenty 
of every thing in human nature. One thing only we 
need ; and that is faith in it, — faitli in the nature 
God has given us, its capacities and possibilities. 
Faith is the golden key which unlocks this splendid 
treasury, the human soul. Whatever is right and 
good, whatever the instinct of the heart tells us to do, 
believe that we are able to do it, and we can do it. 
How much there is in man has never been dis- 



THE FRAGMENTS. 



155 



covered. The maximum of human attainments has 
not been reached. Napoleon did a great deal ; but 
he seemed to himself to be idle. He might have done 
a great deal more. Theodore Parker, one of the 
severest workers we have ever had in America, de- 
clared that he had left half his faculties unused. The 
greatest saint is conscious to* himself of how much 
better he might be than he is ; and so he calls himself 
the chief of sinners. The great poet or artist knows 
that his noblest deed has had another, — 

" Of bright imagination born, — 
A loftier and a nobler brother, 
From dear existence torn." 

One of Milton's sonnets, written at twenty-three 
years of age, laments his own backwardness, and his 
late spring that shows no bud or blossom. If he had 
known what he was to do before he died, he might 
have been patient. 

Time, also, is given us in profusion. We often say 
we have no time for this or that ; but we usually say 
what is not true. tEvery one has ten times as much 
time as he uses. No one has ever put into a day a 
hundredth part of what he might. One day would be 
enough to think every thing, feel every thing, and 
do every thing we need to in this world, if we were 
only fully alive, full enough of soul, to make its hours 
crowded with glorious life. Did you ever see a letter 
from any one to a distant friend, which did not begin 
with this apology : " I ought to have written to you 
sooner ; but I had no time " ? It is almost always a 



156 THE FRAGMENTS. 

falsehood. It should be, " I had not the will, I had 
not the heart, I had not the confidence in myself, nor 
the trust that things would come to me to say. My 
mind has seemed empty." That is the true reason ; 
but we make believe it is a want of time. No : time 
is inexhaustible to a living soul. Only let the soul 
be sufficiently full of life, and a moment seems like a 
year. 

To be sure, there is a certain amount of time 
required for all merely mechanical work ; but, for 
soul-work, there is always time enough, if we only 
find soul enough. It takes me fifteen minutes to 
come from the town in which I live to Boston ; , and 
I do not see how that can be abridged : but, when I 
reach Boston, I go to see some noble person, some 
dear friend, or some earnest, generous spirit ; or 
I go to the home of sorrow and trial ; and, in one 
minute, I live a whole year of thought or sympathy 
or purpose. One second is long enough to change 
the current of life, — to turn us upward toward 
heaven, or downward toward hell. The critical mo- 
ments of life are not to be measured by the watch 
or the almanac. We look back over weary years, 
empty of all interest, to some few golden moments 
when we really lived. Those moments of pure in- 
sight, of pure love, of real action, — those made our 
life : all the rest is nothing. " What is the chaff to 
the wheat ? " 

We have, therefore, not only enough of every 
thing, but more than enough, and a great deal more 



THE FRAGMENTS. 



157 



than enough. The busiest person has some golden, 
precious moments of leisure, worth far more than the 
long days of the idle man. 

Consider the life of Jesus. His active recorded life 
is thought to have been, at most, three years : probably 
it was not much more than one year. But because he 
had faith in God, and confidence in himself, his over- 
flowing soul filled those few months so full of thought 
and love, that the four Gospels, the* sacred books of 
mankind, could only take up and record for us a small 
part of it. If every thing had been written, " the 
world itself could not contain the books that should 
be written." That is hardly an hyperbole. Of course, 
it could not. Why, what Jesus said and did each day, 
during the twelve hours, was all memorable. We 
have only gathered up a few shells by the side of that 
ocean of truth and love. We are riparian proprie- 
tors, so to speak, dwelling on a little bit of the shore, 
and looking out over a small portion of the surface of 
the immeasurable sea which bathes all the conti- 
nents of earth. 

But thus, while nature and life are so exuberant, 
the difficulty is that we waste them both. Therefore 
the lesson of our text, — " Let nothing be lost." 
Count nothing insignificant. 

This lesson is also taught by Nature, throughout 
whose boundless profusion and royal abundance there 
reigns an equally austere economy. God gathers up 
in nature the fragments, and allows nothing to be lost. 
Not a comet, escaped from its elliptic restraint, and 



158 



THE FRAGMENTS. 



shooting off on a parabolic or hyperbolic curve into 
outer darkness, but Nature reaches out after it with 
the long arm of gravitation, whose fingers are fine 
enough to catch the minutest particle of impalpable 
ether, and strong enough to hold in their places the 
enormous masses of planets and suns. Not a drop of 
rain, falling in primeval showers to water Eden, but 
has been kept safe till now. It escaped into the sod, 
it filtered through the sand ; but it was taken into the 
company of other drops, and carried in hidden chan- 
nels below, till it came up a flashing diamond in a 
mountain-spring, was tossed on the curve of a tum- 
bling torrent, and at last went to the ocean by some 
old historic river, — Euphrates or Nile. Then the 
sun darted forth a ray of heat to meet it, a messen- 
ger sent ninety-six millions of miles, charged to gather 
up this one drop, and lift it again into air, and, with 
its evaporated tissue, to paint the edge of a cloud oi| 
some golden sunset. Every thing is transformed in 
Nature ; nothing lost. Imperial Cassar, turned to 
clay, may stop a hole to keep away the wind ; but he 
is not lost. Decay's effacing fingers sweep away the 
lines of lingering beauty in flower and tree and man ; 
but the mighty chemical affinities continually gather 
up all the particles, and combine them anew, and suf- 
,fer nothing to be lost. I recollect in a class-recita- 
tion at Cambridge, in chemistry, the question being 
put about some new combination, when every thing 
else had been accounted for, — " But what became of 
the carbon ? " said the professor. The student hesi- 



THE FRAGMENTS. 159 

tated, and at last said, " It was lost, sir." What 
laughter greeted the absurd reply ! for chemistry has 
announced to the world, as its fundamental law, that 
in Nature nothing is lost. All things are changed. 
Tennyson says in one of his poems, unpublished in 
this country, — 

" When will the stream be aweary of flowing 

Under my eye ? 
When will the wind be aweary of blowing 

Over the sky ? 
When will the clouds be aweary of fleeting, 
When will the heart be aweary of beating, 

And Nature die ? 
Never, oh, never ! nothing will die. 

The stream flows ; 

The wind blows ; 

The cloud fleets ; 

The heart beats : 

Nothing will die ! V 

And this great law of economy in Nature has its 
corresponding law in the moral and spiritual world. 
When Christ said to his disciples, " Gather up the 
fragments that remain, that nothing be lost/' 7 it was 
not because they needed the fragments of bread and 
fish j but it was to teach them the law of economy, — 
that it was wrong to waste any thing. He had just 
shown them that they never could need when he was 
near them ; that he had at his beck the inexhaustible 
supplies of miracle. But that might make them care- 
less and wasteful. God has limited us by need, that 
we may limit ourselves afterward by economy. This 
economy is sacred and religious, not selfish. It re- 
cognizes all things as given by God .; given for use, 



160 



THE FRAGMENTS. 



not waste ; to be treated reverently, not recklessly. 
TThen we see any one throw away a good piece of 
bread, we rightly feel pained. It is not because 
of the value of the bread, but because of the disre- 
spect shown to what religious people, in their old- 
fashioned language, called " God's good creature." 
If a friend had made for you, with thought, love, and 
skill, some little gift, a pen-wiper or a book-mark, you 
would not throw it away when you did not want it 
longer, because your friend's love, time, and care 
went into it. But God has put into the piece of 
bread how much creative wisdom and providing love ! 
the wonderful mystery of the seed and its germina- 
tion ; the horticulture of prepared soils, moisture, air, 
sun, and the changing seasons ; and then the chemis- 
try of fermentation, and the alchemy of fire. A piece 
of bread becomes sacred when we think of such 
things ; and to partake of it is to partake of the 
sacrament. You would not throw a piece of conse- 
crated bread from the communion-table upon the 
floor, to be trampled on ; for it has been sanctified 
by love and prayer. But all nature is thus conse- 
crated, and becomes sacred, when we see the finger of 
God in it. 

Therefore our New-England ancestors, who them- 
selves learned economy as a necessity on these sterile 
shores, taught it to their children as a religion. New- 
England children, down to my time, were taught 
economy as a sacred moral duty. I am afraid that 
that time has passed away. A habit of wastefulness, 



THE FKAGMENTS. 



161 



injurious to the character, has since come in with 
prosperity. 

But as every thing good runs into an extreme, and 
so becomes a vice, our New-England economy some- 
times ran into an extreme, and became parsimony. 
Sometimes we can save a thing only by using it, or 
by giving it away. We lose it by trying to keep it. 
You remember the epitaph on a tombstone, — " What 
I gave, I have ; what I spent, I had ; what I kept, I 
lost." The great millionnaire, who dies Avithout hav- 
ing done any great good w T ith his wealth, evidently 
loses it all in a day. He might have kept part of it by 
using it in some good cause, for some good end. He 
might have had some royal charity, some bounty that 
was to bless and save thousands growing up under 
his own living eyes ; have caused the widows' hearts 
to sing for joy ; lightened the sorrows of the orphans, 
and been followed to the grave by the grateful feet of 
thousands whom he had rescued. There are lower 
and higher economies : if he kept his money, he only 
practised the lowest. 

So sometimes we lose time by trying to save it in a 
parsimonious way : trying to utilize every moment to 
some outward, visible end. Young men sometimes 
make this mistake when they begin to preach. They 
see that there is a great deal to do, and so allow them- 
selves no relaxation, but sit all day long trying to 
study or to write. But this stupefies them. They 
would do better to expand and vitalize their souls by 
the good intercourse of friendship, or the glad inspi- 

11 



162 



THE FRAGMENTS. 



ration of Nature. Then they would come back to 
their study, and have something to say. As it is, 
they only sit looking at the blank paper with a blank 
mind. So Milton says, — 

" To measure life, learn thou betimes, and know 
Towards solid good what leads the nearest way ; 
For other things mild Heaven a time ordains, 
And disapproves that care, though wise in show, 
That with superfluous labor loads the day." 

Dissipation is waste ; but recreation is economy. 
So that whatever time is spent in gaining new life and 
moral power is well spent ; and that is just the rule 
by which to distinguish between the kind and amount 
of amusement which is right. That which recreates 
(re-creates) the mind is good ; that which dissipates, 
wastes it, is bad. 

But there is a higher economy still in this great 
scale. There is an economy of life, which consists in 
giving it away ; an economy of the heart and soul, 
which consists in their devotion to a great good. 
Jesus says, " He who loves his life shall lose it ; but 
he who loses his life for my name's sake and the gos- 
pel's, the same shall find it." He does not teach us 
any mercantile economy or any calculating religion. 
Christ's religion is not a spiritual insurance-office, by 
which we can secure heaven and escape hell here- 
after by a certain weekly regular deposit of prayers 
and religious acts here. Many people think so, and 
are taught so. They are taught that Christ came 
merely to show them how to save their own souls 



THE FRAGMENTS. 



163 



from hell, and that this is the true thing to aim at. 
Christianity teaches no such selfishness as that. It 
teaches us that God will take care of our soul and our 
safety, if we go out and do his work and his will. It 
says, " If we will love others, God will love and bless 
us." 

Yes : Jesus came to gather up the fragments which 
remain of human virtue, love, and goodness, that no- 
thing should be lost. There are always some frag- 
ments which remain in every heart. God's great law 
of economy applies to these. If he does not allow a 
comet to wander hopelessly away into emptiness, but 
sends the great archangel gravitation to bring it 
back, he will not let a soul, made in his own image, 
go off on any fatal erratic curve into outer darkness. 
The great archangej Love shall pursue the lost souls, 
and find them. That is what Christianity teaches, if 
it teaches any thing. The Son of man comes to seek 
and save the lost. If he had pity on the fragments of 
bread, the overflowings of his bountiful good-will, 
will he not pity the fragments of broken minds and 
broken hearts? He does. He does not choose to 
drink the cup of joy alone in the heavenly kingdom of 
God. He cannot be happy there, unless you and I 
are there with him. He cannot be happy there, un- 
less we bring with us our lost brethren and sisters 
who are perishing around us for lack of a little love. 
Has God sent Christ to seek and save the lost ? and 
shall he not find them and save them ? Why, not a 
particle of these multitudinous snowflakes which fell 



164 



THE FEAGMENTS. 



last night but has been made by divine fingers into 
lovely hexagons, and not a particle but comes to do a 
special work. Shall not Christ do his ? Yea, verily. 
" As the rain cometh down, and the snow from heaven, 
and returneth not thither, but watereth the earth, 
making it bring forth seed to the sower, and bread to 
the eater ; so shall my word be that goeth out of my 
mouth." 

Man is made for progress ; but there are two kinds 
of progress. One kind consists in going forward from 
one thing to another, — one knowledge to another 
knowledge ; dropping the past behind us, in order to 
attain the future. It is leaving the good to gain the 
better ; giving up one truth for the sake of another. 
It is being " eternal seekers, with no past behind us." 
But another and higher kind is th,at which gathers up 
the past into the present, absorbs history into life, 
makes all old experiences " consolidate in mind and 
frame." That is the only progress which endures : 
the other always falls a victim to re-action. Re-action 
in life and history is only going back to pick up some- 
thing we have forgotten. So the re-action from 
democracy in Europe to monarchy is going back to 
get something good in monarchy which democracy 
forgot to take. Re-action from Protestantism to Catho- 
licism is going back to get something good belonging 
to the Roman Church which Protestantism left be- 
hind. Re-action from Liberal Christianity to Ortho- 
doxy is the same thing. No progress is sure that 
leaves any thing behind it forgotten or neglected j and 



THE FRAGMENTS. 



165 



so the human race will make no progress while it 
leaves any part neglected behind. We are members 
of a great body, and each needs all the rest. The 
English thought they could do without the Irish, and 
leave them behind, uncultivated, mere serfs ; but the 
Irish have hung as a clog on the progress of Eng- 
land, and compelled her at last to recognize their 
claim. We thought we could leave the negroes be- 
hind, and neglect them, while we, members of the 
great American Republic, were going on, in long 
strides, to the acme of prosperity and greatness. 
But wiser fate said, " No." We have been obliged 
to turn round, and go back, and find the negro, to 
take him with us. And so there can be no real prog- 
ress or peace in society while any class remains 
neglected ; while there are drunkards and prostitutes, 
beggars and criminals, who have no care and no love 
extended to them. The taint of their disease comes 
up into our palaces and into our hearts. Let us, then, 
gather up the fragments, and seek and save the lost. 
The worst man and the worst woman have something 
good in them. Let us seek it, find it, and save it. 
The human race will not be saved till every human 
being is saved. The Orthodox doctrine was, that the 
redeemed would be made happier by looking down 
into hell, and seeing the torments of the damned, — 
their own fathers and children. The exact opposite 
is the truth. The redeemed are only redeemed them- 
selves by saving the lost ; and they cannot get to 
heaven till they bring the lost with them. 



166 



THE FRAGMENTS. 



In the year 1717, from the 1st to the 6th of March, 
about this very time, there was the greatest snow- 
storm that ever happened in New England in the 
memory of man. The snow drifted twenty feet high 
in some places. In the town of Eastham, on the Cape, 
old Mr. Treat, who had been minister there for forty- 
five years, died. No paths could be cut to carry him 
to the grave. He lay in the house several days. At 
last, the Indians of Eastham, whom he had helped and 
taught, protected and comforted, dug an archway 
through the drifts, and carried the coffin of their 
friend on their own shoulders to the graveyard. 
That is the way in which we are to get to heaven : 
the hands of those we have helped must dig the way 
for us, and we must be carried on their shoulders 
through the drifts of our frozen life. 

Many sins we commit, which freeze around the 
heart, and case it in an icy coat of selfishness. Many 
stormy and tempestuous gusts of passion rage over 
the human soul. But if the angel of charity stays 
with us ; if we do not despise the poor, do not neglect 
the stranger, do not forsake the vicious and the pri- 
soner, the needy and the ignorant ; if we hold out a 
hand of help to the helpless, — these little acts of love 
will re-act on our own soul, and melt the ice, and warm 
our hearts with a strange spring-time of hope and joy. 
Those whose broken hearts you have healed ; whose 
hurt consciences you have comforted; whose lost steps 
you have guided ; whose despair you have removed ; 
for whom you have given thought, time, strength, 



THE FRAGMENTS. 167 

and life, — they are to carry you on their shoulders to 
heaven. 

This explains the singular peace and comfort which 
our brave men have in the midst of their sufferings in 
the battle and camp, in the hospitals, and on the field. 
They have given themselves for the country and for us, 
and God blesses them. They forget themselves, and 
he remembers them. One wrote home to his wife the 
other day, that he had lost both legs ; and he drew on 
his letter the picture of a man on crutches, and said, 
" That's the way I'm coming home to you, Mary : but 
don't mind, Mary ; we will be happy yet." Such men 
give, and it is given to them again : full measure, 
pressed down, running over, does God give into their 
bosoms, of his comfort and of his peace. 

In the mint in Philadelphia, there is a room where 
the gold is rolled and clipped and stamped, and cut 
into coin. The floor is of iron cut into holes, and the 
sweepings of the room fall through, and once a month 
are put into the furnace ; and in this way are saved 
some forty thousand dollars' worth of gold every year 
that before was lost. But what are fragments of gold 
or diamond to fragments of love, hope, and insight ? 

So gather up the fragments which remain of God's 
wonderful gifts in Nature and in Providence, of his 
mysterious and beautiful gifts in the minds, con- 
sciences, and hearts of men. 

You have seen the priests, after the. sacrament, take 
care that none of the consecrated bread should be 
wasted, and request the communicants to distribute 



168 THE FRAGMENTS. 

among them what remains, and eat it all up, to the 
last crumb. Do this, if it seems to you proper and 
devout. Tithe the mint and the anise, if you will ; 
but forget not the weightier matters of the law. Do 
not forget, that far more sacred than any consecrated 
bread is that true bread which came down from 
heaven ; that sacred, divine gift of the soul which God 
has placed in man ; that power of aspiration, capacity 
of progress, sense of right, knowledge of infinite 
truth, fitness for boundless love and thought and 
action. Do not let even the crumbs of this fall to the 
ground, if you can save them ; for, of all holy things 
on earth, nothing is so holy in the sight of God as the 
soul of man. • 



XIII. 



ALL SOULS AEE GOD'S. 
Ezek. xviii. 4 : " All Souls are Mine." 

DURING the past week,* two Christian festivals 
have been celebrated by the Church of Rome, 
which I should be glad to see celebrated by all Chris- 
tian denominations. They were instituted in days 
when the Church was truly Catholic, and had not 
become exclusive, — the days of church unity and 
universality ; and these days are festivals of a univer- 
sal Church and of a true unity. In the year eight 
hundred and thirty-five, the first day of November 
was appointed by Gregory IV. as a festival for all the 
saints ; and it has ever since been known as All- 
Saints' Day. It is a day on which we may remember 
the saints and martyrs of every time, every land, and 
every creed ; a day on which the war of theology 
should cease, the bitterness of controversy subside ; 
which should be a " truce of God " amid warring 



* This sermon was preached on the Sunday following the festivals 
of All Saints and All Souls, Nov. 1 and Nov. 2. 



170 



ALL SOULS AEE GOD'S. 



sects. On this day, recognizing the fact that eminent 
goodness is monopolized by no party, that devoted 
piety and disinterested humanity are to be found in 
every denomination, all sections of the Church might 
unite in one great procession, to visit, with grateful 
love and memory, the holy tombs of all the good. 
Catholic and Protestant, Methodist and Quaker, Or- 
thodox and Heterodox, might kneel together in 
grateful prayer around the graves of St. Francis and 
St. Charles, of Oberlin and Fenelon, of George Fox 
and John Wesley, of Milton and Priestley. On this 
day, the Church would be truly universal. As the 
first day of November is the Feast of All Saints, so 
the second day of November is the Feast of All 
Souls; and is, in its idea and spirit, even more uni- 
versal, more catholic, than the other. If the first is 
the day of the universal church brotherhood, the 
other is a day for universal human brotherhood. It 
was originally established in the eleventh century, in 
commemoration of the souls of those who had de- 
parted during the year. It is not . intended for the 
great and distinguished alone, not for the eminently 
good alone ; but for all, — all souls. It is not for the 
holy and happy alone ; but for the unwise, the un- 
happy, the unholy also, — those whose present lives 
seem to be failures. It is a feast of Christian hope, 
of hope for all, — hope founded in the indestructible 
elements of the soul itself, as made by God, and made 
for himself. 

This last is the subject for our meditations to-day. 



ALL SOULS ARE GOD'S. 



171 



Let us see how it is that all souls belong to God ; 
what it is that is meant when he says, " All souls are 
mine." Let us see how the despised, forgotten, 
abandoned children of earth still belong to God, and 
still are dear to him. 

When we look at the world from any other point 
of view than the Christian, we are led to despise or 
to undervalue the mass of men. The man of cul- 
ture looks down on them as incapable of mental im- 
provement ; the man of righteousness sees them 
hoplessly immersed in vice and crime ; the reformer 
turns away discouraged, seeing how they cling to old 
abuses. Every thing discourages us but Christianity. 
That enables us to take off all these coverings, and 
find, beneath, the indestructible elements and capaci- 
ties of the soul itself. We see standing before us a 
muffled figure: it has been dug out of the ground, 
and is covered with a mass of earth. The man of 
taste looks at it, and finds nothing attractive : he sees 
only the wretched covering. The moralist looks at 
it, and finds it hopelessly stained with the earth and 
the soil in which it has so long lain. The reformer is 
discouraged, finding that it is in fragments, — whole 
limbs wanting ; and considers its restoration hopeless. 
But another comes, inspired by a profounder hope : 
and he sees, beneath the stains, the divine linea- 
ments ; in the broken fragments, the wonderful pro- 
portions. Carefully he removes the coverings ; 
tenderly he cleanses it from its stains ; patiently he 
re-adjusts the broken parts, and supplies those which 



172 



ALL SOULS ARE GOD'S. 



are wanting : and so at last it stands, in a royal museum 
or pontifical palace, an Apollo or a Venus, the very 
type of manly grace or feminine beauty, — a statue 
which enchants the world. The statue, broken and 
defaced, is our common humanity ; so broken, so de- 
faced, that only the far-reaching hope, founded on 
God's interest in the human soul, can enable us to 
do any thing adequately for its restoration. 

1. All souls belong to God and to goodness by 
creation. God has evidently created every soul for 
goodness. He has carefully endowed it with inde- 
structible faculties looking that way. Every soul has 
an indestructible idea of right and wrong, producing 
the feeling of obligation on the one hand, of penitence 
or remorse on the other ; every soul has the tendency 
to worship, to look up to some spiritual power higher 
than itself, better than itself ; every soul is endowed 
with the gift of freedom, made capable of choosing 
between life and death, good and evil ; every soul is 
endowed with reason, with a capacity of knowledge ; 
and especially is every soul endowed with the faculty 
of improvement, of progress. 

Compared with the capacities and powers which 
are common to all, how small are the differences of 
genius or talent between man and man ! 

Now, suppose that we should see, in the midst of 
our city, a building just erected with care and cost; 
Its foundations are deeply laid ; its walls are of solid 
stone ; its various apartments are arranged with skill 
for domestic and social objects : but it is unoccupied 



ALL SOULS ARE GOD'S. 



173 



and unused. We do not believe that its owner in- 
tends it to remain so : we believe that the day will 
come in which these rooms shall become a home ; in 
which these vacant chambers shall resound with the 
glad shouts of children, and the happy laughter of 
youth ; where one room shall be devoted to earnest 
study, another to serious conversation, another to 
safe repose, and the whole be sanctified by prayer. 
Such a building has God erected in every human 
soul. One chamber of the mind is fitted for thought, 
another for affection, another for earnest work, an- 
other for imagination, and the whole to be the temple 
of God. It stands now vacant ; its rooms unswept, 
unfurnished, wakened by no happy echoes : but 
shall it be so always ? Will God allow this soul, 
which belongs to him, so carefully provided with 
infinite faculties, to go wholly to waste ? The man 
who buried his lord's talent was rebuked : will God 
bury his own talent, having made the soul for himself? 
Will he let it remain hidden in the earth, by not 
putting it to use, and educating it in the course of 
his providence? 

2. No : God, having made the soul for goodness, is 
is also educating it for goodness. The soul, which 
belongs to God by creation, will also belong to him by 
education and culture. 

We send our children to school, — to the primary 
school to learn to read and write ; to the grammar- 
school, perhaps to an academy, perhaps to college ; 
we put them to learn a trade or a profession, — and 



174 



ALL SOULS AEE GOD'S. 



then we say we have given them an education. 
Meantime we do not see how God is educating them, 
and educating us too, in this his great school, — the 
world. The earth is God's school, where men are 
sent for seventy years, more or less, to be educated 
for the world beyond. All souls are sent to this 
school ; all enjoy its opportunities. The poor, who 
cannot go to our schools ; the wretched and the for- 
lorn, who, we think, are without means of culture, — 
are perhaps better taught than we are in God's great 
university. The principal teachers in this school are 
three, — nature, events, and labor. Nature receives 
the new-born child, shows him her picture-book, 
and teaches him his alphabet with simple sights and 
sounds. She has a wonderful apparatus, and teaches 
every thing, and illustrates every thing she teaches, 
by experiments. She lets him handle wood, water, 
stones ; shows him animals and birds, insects and 
fishes; and so familiarizes his mind with a fixed order, 
with permanent law, with cause and effect, substance 
and form, space and time. Happy are the children 
who can go the most to Mother Nature, and learn the 
most in her dame school. The little prince was wise 
who threw aside his fine playthings, and wished to 
go out and play in the beautiful mud. 

The next teacher in God's school is labor. That 
which men call the primal curse, is, in fact, one of our 
greatest blessings. Those who are called the for- 
tunate classes, because they are exempt from the 
necessity of toil, are, for that very reason, the most 



ALL SOULS ARE GOD'S. 



175 



unfortunate. Work gives health of body and health 
of mind, and is the great means of developing 
character. Nature is the teacher of the intellect; 
but labor forms the character. Nature makes us 
acquainted with facts and laws ; but labor teaches 
tenacity of purpose, perseverance in action, decision, 
resolution, and self-respect. The man who has done 
a day's work well respects himself, has contentment 
in his heart, and knows himself, however humble his 
sphere, to be in that sphere essential. It is bad that 
men should be overburdened or broken by toil ; bad 
that children, whom G-od has sent to his school of 
Nature, should be sent too early into the school 
of work : but the necessity of daily labor is a gift to 
the race, the value of which we can scarcely estimate. 
If only a few were allowed to work, and the mass of 
men were condemned to idleness, the world would be 
a Pandemonium, and life a curse ; but it is a gift to 
all, a means of education for all souls. 

Then comes the third teacher, — those events of 
life which come to all, — joy and sorrow, success and 
disappointment, happy love, disappointed affection, 
bereavement, poverty, sickness and recovery, youth, 
manhood, and old age. Through this series of events, 
all are taken by the great teacher, — life : these diver- 
sify the most monotonous career with a wonderful 
interest. They are sent to deepen the nature, to 
educate the sensibilities. Thus nature teaches the 
intellect, labor strengthens the will, and the experi- 
ences of life teach the heart. 



176 



ALL SOULS ARE GOD'S. 



For all souls, God has provided this costly educa- 
tion. What shall we infer from it? If we see a man 
providing an elaborate education for his child, harden- 
ing his body by exercise and exposure, strengthening 
his mind by severe study, what do we infer from this ? 
We naturally infer that he intends him for a grand 
career. If he knew that his son had a mortal disease 
which would take him away before maturity, would 
he subject him to this severe discipline ? Then, 
when God disciplines us by severe toil and sharp 
sorrow, we may believe that he is thus forming us 
for a great career by and by. 

3. Again : all souls belong to God by redemption. 
The work of Christ is for all : he died for all, the 
just and the unjust, that he might bring them to God. 
He came to reconcile all things unto God. Christ did 
not die for the great and the distinguished only, nor 
for the good and pure only ; but for the most humble, 
neglected, and forlorn. The light streaming from his 
cross reveals in every soul a priceless treasure, dear 
to God, which he will not willingly lose. The value 
of a single soul in the eyes of God has been illus- 
trated by the coming of Jesus as in no other way. 
The recognition of this value is a feature peculiar to 
Christianity. To be the means of converting a single 
soul, to put a single soul in the right way, has been 
considered a sufficient reward for the labors of the 
most devoted genius and the ripest culture ; to 
rescue those who have sunk the lowest in sin and 
shame has been the especial work of the Christian 



ALL SOULS ARE GOD'S. 



177 



philanthropist ; to preach the loftiest truths of the 
gospel to the most debased and savage tribes in 
the far Pacific has been the chosen work of the 
Christian missionary. In this they have caught the 
spirit of the gospel. God said, " I will send my Son." 
He chose the loftiest being for the lowliest work, and 
thus taught us how he values the redemption of that 
soul which is the heritage of all. 

Now, if a man, apparently very humble, and far 
gone in disease, should be picked up in the street, 
and sent to the alms-house to die, and then if imme- 
diately there should arive some eminent person — say 
the governor or president — to visit him, bringing 
from a distance the first medical assistance, regard- 
less of cost, we should say, " This man's life must be 
very precious : something very important must de- 
pend upon it." But, now, this is what God has done, 
only infinitely more, for all souls. He must, therefore, 
see in them something of priceless value. He does 
not wish to lose one. We are willing recklessly to 
injure or ruin our own soul for the most trifling gra- 
tification ; but, in so doing, we destroy that which 
belongs to God, and which he prizes most highly. 

4. Lastly, in the future life, all souls will belong to 
God. 

The differences of life disappear at the grave, and 
all become equal again there. Then the outward 
clothing of rank, of earthly position, high or low, is 
laid aside ; and each enters the presence of God, 
alone, as an immortal soul. Then we go to judgment 
• 12 



178 



ALL SOULS ARE GOD ? S. 



and to retribution. But the judgments and retribu- 
tions of eternity are for the same object as the edu- 
cation of time : they are to complete the work left 
unfinished here. In God's house above are many 
mansions, suited to every one's condition. Each will 
find the place where he belongs ; each will find the 
discipline which he needs. Judas went to his place, 
the place which he needed, where it was best for him 
to go ; and the Apostle Paul went to his place, the 
place best suited for him. The re.sult of life with 
one man has fitted him for glory and honor ; another 
is only fitted for outer darkness : but each will have 
what is best for him. We may throw ourselves away ; 
but God will not throw us away. We belong to him 
still ; and he " gathers up the fragments which re- 
main, that nothing be lost." In order to become 
pure, we may need sharp suffering ; and then God 
will not hesitate to inflict it. In the other life, as in 
this, he will chasten us, not for his pleasure, but for 
our profit, that we may be partakers of his holi- 
ness. It is thus that God's love for the soul, and 
its worth, appear eminently, in that he will not let 
us. destroy ourselves. When we pass into the other 
world, those who are read} 7 , and have on the wedding- 
garment,- will go in to the supper. They will find 
themselves in a more exalted state of being, where 
the faculties of the body are exalted and spiritualized, 
and the powers of the soul are heightened ; where a 
higher truth, a nobler beauty, a larger love, feed the 
immortal faculties with a divine nourishment; where 



ALL SOULS ARE GOD'S. 



179 



our imperfect knowledge will be swallowed up in 
larger insight ; and communion with great souls, in 
an atmosphere of love, shall quicken us for endless 
progress. Then faith, hope, and love will abide, — 
faith leading to sight, hope urging to progress, and 
love enabling us to work with Christ for the redemp- 
tion of the race. 

" All souls are mine." Blessed declaration of the 
God-inspired Ezekiel ! All souls — of the great and 
the humble, the rich and the poor, the wise and the 
ignorant, the king and the slave, the pure child and 
the abandoned woman, the soul of St. John and the 
s.oul of J udas Iscariot, — all belong to God. He will 
take care of what is his : he will leave no child or- 
phaned. Those who are trodden down and- forsaken 
in this world, — he watches their sorrowful lives, and 
will cause them to bring forth fruit at last. The 
hardened and selfish worldling, who mocks at the 
higher law, and knows no rule but his own miserable 
rule of temporal expediency, — God will teach him 
yet to know and revere immortal truth and heavenly 
virtue. 

Thus does God love all souls with a universal, 
unwearied, untired affection ; thus did Christ love 
all souls, gathering around him, by his deep interest 
in that vital centre of life, the publicans, Pharisees, 
and sinners, the pious and the profane. And thus, if 
we are Christians, we shall love all souls ; calling no 
man common or unclean; believing in the brotherhood 
and sisterhood of the race ; finding something good 



180 



ALL SOULS ARE GOD'S. 



in every one, — a vital seed of nobleness in the most 
deadened bosom ; and, in thus loving other souls, our 
own souls will be blessed. While we forget ourselves, 
God will remember us ; while we seek to save others, 
we, too, shall be safe. 

Let us rejoice, friends, in these great hopes. Let 
us bless God for his creating, educating, and saving 
love. Let us rejoice that the lost souls — lost to 
earth, lost to virtue, lost to human uses here — are 
not lost to God; that he still holds them in his hand. 
Let us rejoice that those who will not be led to him 
by blessings and joy shall be led to him by terror, 
pain, and awful suffering. Let us rejoice that the 
glory of heaven and the lurid fires of hell shall both 
serve God, — both work together for God. Let us 
rejoice in the great communion of souls ; saints and 
sinners, — one great family, to be led by Christ to his 
Father. And let the humble ones of earth, forgotten 
by men, know that they are remembered by God, — 
the nameless martyrs, the uncelebrated lives, all re- 
corded in the Great Book above. 

" The thousands, that, uncheered by praise, 
Hare made one offering of their days ; 
For Truth, for Heaven, for Freedom's sake, 
Resigned the bitter cup to take ; 
And silently, in fearless faith, 
Bowing their noble souls to death, — 

Where sleep they ? Woods and sounding waves 

Are silent of those hidden graves. 

Yet what if no light footstep there 

In pilgrim loVe and awe repair ? 

They sleep in secret ; but the sod, 

Unknown to men, is marked of God." 



XIV. 



" THE ACCEPTED TIME." 
2 Cor. vi. 2 : " Now is the accepted time ; now is the day of 

SALVATION." 

"FT is a distinction of man to live in the past and the 
future no less than in the present. The discourse 
of reason is to look before and after. Animals, indeed, 
have memory and hope. When a horse whinnies at 
noon, it shows both memory of the past, and hope as 
regards the future. He remembers that he has 
been fed before at that time ; and he is expecting to 
be fed again. But man can live in the past and the 
future. He can project his soul backward or forward, 
and dwell in memory or hope, till the present hour 
becomes nothing to him. To illustrate this at length 
would be interesting, but is not necessary, and would 
take a whole sermon. Pass, therefore, to a second 
observation. 

Though it is a distinction of man to be able to live 
in the past and future, this is not his highest or 
best condition. To let the past and future pour their 
consenting streams into his present life is better than 



182 



THE ACCEPTED TIME." 



to carry his life into the past or the future. This 
proposition I proceed to explain. 

The lowest condition of man is that in which he is 
wholly immersed in the present. . This implies the 
absence of all culture. The man's soul is enslaved 
by immediate circumstances, imprisoned in this square 
foot of space, in these sixty seconds of time. The 
moment that one begins to reflect or to imagine, he 
goes backward and forward, and so escapes from the 
weight of the present. The moment culture begins, 
we cease to be the slaves of this Now. The child 
studying geography, history, grammar, arithmetic, 
already escapes somewhat from the limitation of the 
present moment. He is away into Europe, or into 
the time of Alexander, or into the still more remote 
abstractions of pure reason. 

The second condition of man is that in which he 
lives in the past or future, or alternately in past, 
present, and future. It is a higher state than the 
first, but not the highest. To escape from the pres- 
ent is better than to be its slave, but not so good as 
to be its master. Some people escape from the pres- 
ent by re very. They go into Dreamland or Fairy- 
land, and have a good time there ; build castles in the 
air, — castles in Spain. This gives to them a certain 
feebleness of character, incapacitates them for work, 
weakens their moral power. Some people lead a 
double life, putting only half their thought into their 
action ; having another world of favorite imagination 
where the other half .goes. So many persons walk 



" THE ACCEPTED TIME." 



183 



about the world as in a dream. They take no inter- 
est in the present. It seems to them, as to Hamlet, 
stale, flat, and unprofitable. But duty is in the pres- 
ent ; love is in the present ; all real life is in the 
present; and both heart, mind, and hand must be 
weakened by not taking hold of the present with 
energy. Any thing which makes us indifferent to 
the dawning day, which makes us glad when time 
passes, which makes us wish it were good that some 
other time might be here, indicates a morbid state. 
To live in dreams of the past, or visions of the future, 
is sickly. You may call it religion, if you will : it is 
none the less sickly. To retire from life into a clois- 
ter, in order to meditate upon an eternity hereafter, is 
morbid. To lose our interest in. the present world, 
thinking about another, is morbid. Any thing which 
disqualifies us from our duty is morbid. Symptoms 
of this disease are when we lose our interest in life 
and men, get into a habit of staying at home, living 
in one room, avoiding society, or even in spending all 
our time in reading, which is one way of getting out 
of the present into the past. A habit of reading may 
indicate strength or weakness. It indicates strength 
when we read for a purpose ; when reading is there- 
fore a study ; when we plunge into the past, in order 
to bring something to the present, as the diver learns 
to hold his breath, and go down fifty feet deep, in 
order to bring up pearls. But if we read merely to 
escape from our present life, duty, and work, into 
another, then it is no more creditable to read than it 



184 "the accepted time." 

is to recreate ourselves in any other way. Of course, 
we have a right to read as a recreation, just as we 
may take a walk or amuse ourselves in any other 
way. 

Some people rush from the present into the future 
on the wings of hope. Some fly back from the pres- 
ent into the past with the trembling steps of fear. 
These are visionaries ; those are anxious and timid 
souls. Some step aside into Dreamland or into a 
cloister. People cloister themselves in their parlors 
or their churches, their studies or their clubs, their 
cliques, their parties, their sects. So they escape 
timidly, I may say as cowards, from the battle of the 
present hour. For the present hour is always the 
scene of a great battle between right and wrong, 
truth and falsehood, good and evil ; and no one has a 
right to fly from it into Dreamland or Bookland, or 
even into meditations on a heaven which God does not 
deem it well to give us as yet. 

The third and highest condition of human culture, 
therefore, is that in which man lives in the present, 
but with a life drawn from the past and the future. 
This is the highest point of development, — to bring 
past and future into the present. Herein our religion 
differs from all other religions, and true Christianity 
differs from all false Christianities. Jesus was most 
conspicuous for this intense realism, bringing all the 
past of Judaism and all the future of the kingdom of 
heaven into the present moment. " Before Abraham 
was, I am." Thus is the old historic period identi- 



THE ACCEPTED TIME." 



185 



fied with the present hour. " The hour cometh, and 
now is," is another favorite formula with the Master. 
The mind of the Hebrew race was doubly saturated 
with glorious historic reminiscences and glorious pro- 
phetic anticipations, with ancestral pride and Messi- 
anic hope. The wonderful thing in the mind of 
Jesus was, that he could precipitate these religious 
memories and hopes in one crystal form of present 
duty, — into a diamond life sparkling at once from 
every facet with faith, hope, and love. This was 
the supernatural element in Jesus, to be able to bring 
down heaven upon earth; to make immortality pres- 
ent ; to incarnate the Messianic hope in his own life ; 
and to be, as he said, in heaven and upon earth at the 
same moment. " No man hath ascended into heaven, 
save he that came down from heaven ; even the Son 
of man who is in heaven." For as our thought, when 
we utter it, comes out of our mind, and yet remains 
in our mind ; so Jesus came down from heaven into 
communion with man, while inwardly he remained in 
heaven in constant communion with God. 

The miracle of his life is to make the supernatural, 
natural; the' infinite, finite ; the past and future, pres- 
ent ; to bring God's kingdom upon earth, and to show 
his will clone here as in heaven. I call it a miracle, 
because not onlj r no other religion ever accomplished 
it ; but, even after it has been accomplished by Jesus, 
his Church has never realized it. The Church to-day 
does not comprehend it. On the one hand, in spite 
of his own words, a part of the Church refuses to 



186 



" THE ACCEPTED TIME." 



accept a present salvation, and transfers it all to the 
other world ; and, on the other hand, those who do 
accept it make of it a mere commonplace morality, 
and make of him only a teacher of ethics. 

But u the hour cometh, and now is," when we shall 
understand Christianity better, and see that now is 
the day of salvation. In other words, we shall see 
that the work of the gospel is to show to us God 
present with us ; to show that Christ is " Immanuel," 
God with us ; to show that heaven and hell are here ; 
that Christian salvation is a present salvation ; that 
Christ saves us only as he is a present Saviour ; that 
immortality must begin now ; that we must have eter- 
nal life abiding in us while in this world. 

I think some of our writers make a great mistake 
in undervaluing the historic and actual life of Jesus. 
An interesting book has been lately published by a 
distinguished general officer in the United-States 
service, which resolves the life of Jesus into sym- 
bols.* History disappears in a system of ideas. 
Now, the ideal, by itself, is no more reality than the 

* The book by Major-Gen. Hitchcock, " Christ the Spirit," is the 
most recent illustration of that habit of mind which has existed in 
all ages of the Christian Church, and in nearly all religions of men, 
to idealize history into symbols. This tendency is represented by 
Philo, as regards Judaism; and in Christianity by a long series of 
mystical writers, — including such names as Savonarola and Sweden- 
borg, — who remind us of what Kant says of Plato (" Kritik der reinen 
Vernunft; Einleitung") : "The dove, in his free flight, feeling the 
resistance of the air, might imagine that it would move more easily in 
a vacuum. So did Plato leave the world of reality, passing on the 
wings of ideas into the empty spaces of pure intelligence." 



THE ACCEPTED TIME." 



187 



actual by itself. I mean to say, that ideas which 
never have been incorporated, never have been put 
in action, are, as yet, not vital. They do not affect 
the soul of men as seed. They do not tend to prog- 
ress. But whenever an idea is acted out, whenever 
a great truth is really lived, it becomes a source of 
life to multitudes. If the Gospels, therefore, do not 
give an account of an actual life, they are no more 
the seeds of life to the world than Spenser's " Fairy 
Queen," or any other romance containing ideas of 
truth and beauty. It is not till the great truth be- 
comes a great fact that it really helps us to live it. 
Suppose that Gen. Washington were a myth or a 
symbol, the invention of some meditative sage : would 
his story affect us as it does ? I read, in novels and 
romances, tales of heroism and devotion ; but the 
sight of one heroic deed, the knowledge of one 
generous action, the coming in contact with one man 
or woman who is really living nobly, does me more 
good than a whole library of romantic tales. Sup- 
pose one should learn to-day that the story of Savo- 
narola, of Luther, of Joan of Arc, of John Brown, 
of Theodore Winthrop, were merely symbolic stories; 
that no such lives had ever actually been lived ; that 
no such sufferings had ever actually been borne : 
should we not lose something ? Therefore it seems 
to me wonderful that any speculation can so under- 
value history as to say, that if the story of Jesus be 
a symbol only, and not a fact, it can do as much good 
as now. 



188 



" THE ACCEPTED TIME. 



Christ, therefore, to be of any use to us, must be a 
present Christ. The historic Christ of the New Testa- 
ment, and the ideal Christ of Christian anticipation, 
must be realized in the present, in order to help us; 
The hope of glory is Christ within us. The study of 
the Gospels is necessary to make us acquainted with 
Jesus as a person; but this person must become our 
friend in all our daily walk, in order to save us from 
evil and sin. He foretold that he would come again 
as a Holy Spirit. We must feel him present, as the 
Holy Spirit, in society, in history, in providence, in 
our own heart. We must feel him present in all true 
reform, in all courageous struggle, in all noble en- 
deavor. We must believe in his resurrection and 
ascension as well as in his death. He did not die on 
the cross : he lives, and has risen to that higher 
spiritual state in which he can be present and active 
to-day. 

Some good people tell us that Christ is to come in 
1868, in some outward form; and think that they do 
us a favor by that information. But, if Christ is not 
here now, his coming in 1868 will do us little good. 
And as to his coming in some outward shape, I, 
for my own part, would say with Paul, that I take 
less interest in that than in his coming as spirit and 
power in society, history, and life.* No doubt he will 
come in 1868, but only as he is coming now in 1861 ; f 

* Paul - says, " Though we have known Christ after the flesh, yet 
now henceforth know we him no more." 

t This sermon was preached in the first year of the war. 



" THE ACCEPTED TIME." 



189 



and those who do not see him now will not see him 
then. I see Christ visible to-day. I see him plainly, 
coming in these magnificent events of the present 
hour. I see him in this coming emancipation of a 
great people, so long tied down by compromises, and 
fastened to the dead corpse of corrupt and corrupting 
institutions. If Christ is not here, where can he be? 
If he is not in this fine awakening of a nation, in 
this new crisis of history, in this inspiration which 
bears all our youth onward to battle for their coun- 
try, and makes their life poor until it can be given 
for justice, law, and freedom ; if he is not here with 
us in sympathy, influence, and help, — then he has 
changed from the Christ whose holy feet walked 
over the acres of Palestine, bearing sympathy to 
earth's sorrows, and help to mortal weakness and 
sin. Do not talk of 1868. Let us see Christ here in 
the slave whose fetters are breaking ; here in the 
nation which is arising out of selfishness into gene- 
rosity. Christ is coming in 1868 ; but he is coming 
in the form of the hungry, the thirsty, the naked, the 
stranger, the sick, and the prisoner. Find these, and 
you find him. For salvation, too, to be of any use to 
us, must be a present salvation. It is not enough 
that I passed through some experience, and repented, 
and was converted and born again last year. I must 
repent to-day ; I must be converted to-day ; I must 
be born again to-day. What I did yesterday an- 
swered for yesterday, but does not answer for to-day. 
Nor can I hope to be saved in the future, except as I 



190 " THE ACCEPTED TIME." 

am saved now. Immortality must begin here. God 
is here ; Christ is here ; his Holy Spirit is here ; all 
good angels are here ; all truth is here ; and I can be 
saved now by trusting in God as my Father and my 
Friend. 

We have read the story of a man, who, led by 
some whim, left his home, and went into another 
street, and there lived by himself secretly for many 
years. Every evening he went by his house, and 
looked into the windows, and saw his family sitting 
together, but did not go in ; till at last, after many 
years, passing the house as usual, he turned up the 
steps, opened the door, and entered, and was once 
again received into the circle of sweet love. We 
wonder at the folly which can thus throw away 
years of affection and joy ; but Ave do just so. We 
pass by, day after day, the home of our soul; 'we 
postpone, day after day, entering into the love of 
God and Christ. So we let years go by: but, at last, 
we determine to go in ; and then, in the peace of for- 
given sin, in the sense of God's fatherly love, in the 
consciousness of living in our true home, we wonder 
that we postponed it so long; consented so long, in 
our folly, to live away from God, and so away from 
heaven. 

For, in fine, heaven and hell are both present also : 
they are both here. 

For what is hell, and what is heaven? Hell is 
absence from God : heaven is the presence of God. 
To turn away from God in our wilful choice ; to sep- 



"the accepted time." 



191 



arate ourselves from him in our selfishness : to go, 
like the prodigal, into a far country, — that is hell. 
It carries with it the famine of the soul, the mortal 
hunger, the decay and death of all our best nature. 
We are dead while we live, when we are away from 
God : there is no real satisfaction in any thing. And 
what is heaven but to return to God, and so find 
satisfaction in every thing ; to cease from selfish 
ends ; to give ourselves up to noble and true pur- 
poses ? Those who live pure' and generous lives 
have tasted already " the powers of the world to 
come." 

Thus Christ glorifies the present, throwing over it 
the ideal glow of the past, and the roseate beauty 
of the future. He transfigures the present by the 
great idea of duty, and the inspiration of God's love. 
As he appeared on the mountain in glory, talking 
with Moses and Elias of the things belonging to the 
kingdom of heaven, so he summons the past to talk 
with him in the present concerning the future. 
Therefore there is no condition of life so humble, no 
work of life so common, no sphere of duty so low, 
as not to grow full of grace and charm as -Christ 
comes to it. Intense light thrown upon a piece of 
common earth, in a microscope, changes it into a 
fairyland of beauty: so the intense light of Christian 
truth beautifies the most insignificant moment of our 
life. We feel that now is the accepted time, that 
now is the day of salvation. The present moment 
becomes infinitely interesting. We cease to medi- 



192 



THE ACCEPTED TIME." 



tate on the past, or ' dream about the future 
now is sufficient for us. 

" No longer, forward or behind, 
I look in hope or fear ; 
But, grateful, take the good I find, 
The best of now and here. 

And so the shadows fall apart, 
And so the west winds play ; 

And all the windows of my heart 
I open to the day." 



XV. 



"WHEN HE CAME TO HIMSELF." 
Luke xv. 17: "And when he came to himself." 

THIS is rather a remarkable expression. How can 
one come to himself? Are we not always with 
ourselves ? Do we ever go away from ourselves ? 
We may go away from home, friends, and native 
land ; we may go from God and heaven and love and 
peace ; we may go away from truth into falsehood, 
from innocence into crime : but can we ever go away 
from ourselves? According to the Horatian verse, 
never. " Who, by flying his country, can escape 
himself?" says Horace. And, if we analyze the ex- 
pression, it grows more difficult to comprehend. " He 
came to himself." Who was the " he " that came to 
himself ? Was it the soul that came to the body, or 
the body to the soul, or the personality, the personal 
will, which came to the spirit? How can the expres- 
sion be understood or explained by any mental or 
moral science ? 

And yet this phrase is one which is quite common, 
found in many languages ; and we all feel it to be sin- 

13 



194 



"WHEN he came to himself." 



gularly appropriate. In this passage, it is exactly 
the. same in Greek as in English; and it is a sort 
of expression so universal, that there is evidently 
some reality of human experience lying beneath it. 
Perhaps we can understand this by seeing under 
what circumstances the expression is used. 

Why do we say that a person " has come to him- 
self" when he recovers his consciousness after hav- 
ing fainted away, after a trance, after being stunned 
by a blow, after delirium ? It is because he has 
become self-conscious : he has obtained possession of 
his faculties ; ceases to live a merely instinctive life, 
and lives a conscious moral life. We thus recognize 
that the true self in man is the power of self-con- 
sciousness and self-direction. As long as one has 
neither self-consciousness nor self-direction, he is out 
of himself ; but, when he has this self-possession, he 
has come to himself, he has become himself. 

I recollect a fact told me once by a friend of mine, 
who was a sailor, which I 4iave always thought a 
curious experience, showing what kind of central 
consciousness in the soul makes the essential self in 
man. He was one night in a terrible thunder-storm 
in the Gulf Stream. The bolts of lightning fell all 
around the vessel ; so that, momently expecting it 
would be struck, the captain told the crew to stay 
forward and aft, away from the masts. My friend, 
who was the mate of the vessel, thought he heard a 
sail beginning to flap ; and went to the foot of the 
mainmast to look up through the solid darkness, if 



"WHEN HE CAME TO HIMSELF." 195 

perchance he might see what it was. At that mo- 
ment, the vessel was struck, and he fell senseless. 
The effect of the shock on the vessel was to make it, 
for a moment, lose its way ; and the next wave rushed 
over the deck, washing him to the lee scuppers. 
Probably the bath saved his life. The men, coming 
aft to see what had happened, stumbled over him ; and 
he was taken below, and laid in a berth. An hour or 
two after, the captain came down with a lantern, and, 
looking at him, spoke to him. He looked at the cap- 
tain, struggled to collect himself, and at last said, after 
a great effort of reason, " I am somebody." That was 
the first sign that he had come to himself. He came 
out of chaos to individuality. He was conscious that 
he was a person. Next, after another effort, he took 
another intellectual step, and said, " I am somewhere." 
He first individualized himself, then localized himself. 
First personality, then space. First one's self, then 
the outward world j or, as I suppose the German 
metaphysicians would say, first the " I," and then the 
" Not I." 

Something like this happens when we come out of 
a dream. In sleep, particularly if it be deep and 
solid, if we have plunged clear down into the depths 
of a profound sleep, to awake from it is like a resur- 
rection from the dead. We do not, for a moment, 
know where we are; but I think that we do not go so 
far out of ourselves in sleep as this young man did who 
was struck by lightning. We say when we awake, 
" I am somewhere : where ami?" But we do not say, 



196 "when he came to himself. 



" I am some one." In dreams we are still ourselves ; 
but we cease to be localized. Place comes and goes 
around us. The scene shifts : we are now at home ; a 
moment after, somewhere far off ; and we are not sur- 
prised. Especially, in sleep, the self-directing will is 
relieved from duty, the sense of responsibility ceases : 
we are free from all permanent care, all anxiety about 
the work of our daily life. The dignity and duty of 
choice are both temporarily removed. This is what 
really makes sleep a rest : it rests the body by relax- 
ing the steady tension of the will over the muscles ; 
but it rests the soul more by taking off the steady 
pressure of purpose and obligation from the mind and 
heart. We cease to be responsible while we are 
asleep, — that rests us. Hence, in our dreams, we 
often do things with very little remorse that would 
shock our conscience when awake. Gentle persons 
dream that they commit murder, and do not feel at all 
unhappy about it. Therefore sleep rests the mind 
as well as the body, but therefore also it is a lower 
state ; and we come to ourselves when we wake, by 
taking up the duty and dignity of conscientious pur- 
pose. 

" Coming to one's self," then, is a phrase which very 
well expresses the collecting of all one's powers and 
faculties round their true centre of self-consciousness 
and self-direction. You have seen in water the image 
of the sun or moon. Something disturbs the surface 
of the water, and breaks it into waves. Immediately 
the image is shattered in pieces, and goes apart, the 



"WHEN HE CAME TO HIMSELF." 



197 



bright fragments oscillating to and fro on the undulat- 
ing surface : but gradually, as the waves subside, these 
fragments of the sun's image begin to come together 
again. They come nearer and nearer, each approach- 
ing its proper place, until at last, when the disturbed 
water has become again smooth, the image of the sun 
re-appears once more round and distinct as at first. 
It has come to itself. 

So man comes to himself after the distraction of 
passion, after the stupor of self-indulgence, after the 
conscience has been disturbed by selfish sophisms. 
He comes to himself when the broken image of God, 
reflected in the inward mirror of conscience, has again 
grown distinct and clear within. He comes to him- 
self when all his faculties gather subserviently around 
their true centre ; when the soul is on its throne7 and 
truth is loved and obeyed ; and Christ, who is God's 
love in the heart, helps us to forget ourselves, and to 
love others. The soul of man comes to its true self 
in humility, in obedience, in truthfulness, in generous 
affection : it is out of itself till then. Thus sin is 
represented in our text as insanity, as a temporary 
delirium, and man as only perfectly sane when he is a 
child of God, and desirous, if he cannot be a son 
loving his Father, to be at least a servant obeying 
him. 

Man's true self, accordingly, is good. Man's nature 
is not bad, but good. When man is himself, as God 
made him and meant him, he is good. Sin is an 
unnatural state : it is a derangement. We are all, 



198 "when he came to himself." 

therefore, when sinners, partially insane. We are in a 
delirium till we come to truth and love. I think that 
we all sometimes feel this. If you look back to those 
hours of life when you were in your best state of mind ; 
when you were most humble, most penitent, most 
trusting, most loving ; when selfishness seemed killed 
down to its roots ; when passion, and love of pleasure, 
and worldliness, were checked by some great sorrow ; 
when, under the influence of truth and goodness, you 
looked at life with earnest eyes, — did it not seem as 
if you were now more sane ? as if you were not only 
better, but also wiser ? This, you said, is the true 
state. I am now really myself. Every other condition 
is morbid : this is healthy. Every other state is fever- 
ish ; it is derangement : this is true order, this is self- 
possession, this is being whole. It is, therefore, not 
true to say that man by nature is a child of sin. 
Man by nature is a child of God, and only by disease 
is a child of sin. Sin is abnormal. Goodness is liis 
proper and healthy condition. 

" By our proper motion we ascend 
Up to our native height : descent and fall 
To us is adverse." 

The true life of man is the full activity of all his 
powers, each in its place and order ; but this fulness 
of manhood comes only when man is self-poised, self- 
possessed, and self-controlled, according to the divine 
laws. All disobedience to God's laws re-acts on the 
soul, and brings famine and want to some part of 
the nature. It is always derangement, insanity, dis- 



WHEN HE CAME TO HIMSELF." 



199 



ease. No one can grow, with a full development of 
his nature, except according to law. All self-indul- 
gence tends to disease and weakness. 

The selfish man of the world, for example, is insane 
and sick. He thinks, because he devotes himself to 
his own private ends, that he will achieve success. 
He says, " Each for himself : no one can succeed in 
any other way." He thinks that very wise. So he 
sets aside strict conscience, sets aside generosity, and 
gives all his energy to his own advancement. Politi- 
cian, lawyer, merchant, clergyman, writer, whatever 
he is, he only thinks how he can get fame, position, 
power, respect, ability, wealth, for himself alone. For 
a time, he seems to succeed. He rises higher and 
higher. He attains position. He is distinguished. 
He has influence. He has fame. But this is all a 
diseased growth. There is a famine within. He is 
conscious himself, and others are also conscious, of 
some fatal and essential deficiency. Perhaps you 
cannot tell what it is, but you feel that there is some- 
thing wrong. The real difficulty is, that he is in- 
wardly dying. His life is gradually oozing out of 
him. The joy of existence ceases. He does not really 
enjoy even his own success. Those who look at him 
find something hollow in him. The inevitable law 
holds him in its relentless grasp. " He who loves his 
life shall lose it : he who loses his life for others shall 
find it." Selfishness destroys the true self. For the 
true self in man, the highest self, is when he looks 
out, not in ; when he thinks of others, not of himself ; 



200 "when he came to himself." 

when he lives for truth, not for personal success, — 
lives for right and justice, for humanity and for 
God. 

This successful selfish man is " perishing with 
hunger." Happy if he finds it out; if he has the 
honesty to say, " I perish with hunger." Then he 
comes to himself. In that moment he begins to 
rise. His true self regains its supremacy. Then 
he says, "I will go to my Father." All irreligion 
and all false religion are insanity and derangement. 
That man only is perfectly healthy in soul whose 
heart within is a smooth mirror, reflecting evermore 
the face of God ; but it must be the face of the true 
God, our Father. The face neither of Jupiter nor of 
Jehovah will suffice : neither that of the cold philoso- 
phic God, who is only law ; nor of the terrible Calvin- 
istic God, who maintains an eternal hell, into which 
he casts his children, and on the door of which he 
writes, " Leave all hope behind, ye who enter here." 
Such religion as this deranges, dwarfs, stupefies, and 
cripples the soul. All imperfect and false religions 
distort man out of himself. 

But the religion of Jesus brings us to ourselves 
by bringing us to our Father. It shows us our 
God, as the Father, who sees us a great way off as 
soon as we turn to him, and kisses us with the 
sweet inward kiss of peace in the heart as soon 
as we humble ourselves before the truth and right. 
This image of God in the heart makes us sane, 
and keeps us so. We know where to go now at 



" WHEN HE CAME TO HIMSELF." 



201 



all times. "We have a friend who knows us better 
than we know ourselves, loves us better than we love 
ourselves, helps us when we cannot help ourselves, 
forgives us when we cannot forgive ourselves, and, 
in the midst of our mighty despair, breathes round 
our heart the perfumed breath of a new and divine 
hope. 

When you. know God as he is, then you have come 
to yourself ; then you are safe. There is no more 
danger then: all your faculties then unfold in their 
true method and order : we see that life is sweet, 
that duty is attractive, that truth is inspiration, that 
love is divine, that death — 

" Is but a covered way 

That opens into light, 
Wherein no blinded child can stray 

Beyond the Father's sight." 

For, with God in the heart, you always feel at 
home. I do not think we feel at home always with 
our friends. Some persons you are at home with 
intellectually : you feel that you have come to your- 
self intellectually when talking with them ; they 
excite and bring out your best intellectual faculties. 
With others, you are at home socially : you come to 
yourself socially in their presence ; they are sympa- 
thizing, uncritical ; they do not censure you ; they 
are a sort of sunny atmosphere, where, in social 
hours, you expand and blossom out, and rest your- 
self. Then you are at home with others industrially : 
you can work with them ; they bring out all your 



202 "when he came to himself." 

practical power ; you come to yourself as a worker in 
their society. Then you are at home politically with 
others : you sympathize with them, and they with 
you, in political ideas. With others you come to your- 
self in religious hours : they and you are in religious 
sympathy. But he who has come to God as his own 
Father and Friend, who has that image in his heart, is 
always at home, and always himself, in thft presence. 
He does not come to God to kneel, to bend, to repent, 
to say words of prayer and praise : but when he is well 
and when he is sick ; when he is doing right or going 
wrong; when he is at work or at play, — he looks 
inward ; he feels the strengthening, guiding, helping 
hand ; he hears the loving, tender, warning voice ; 
and he comes to himself. He stands erect in the 
fulness of his manhood. What can he fear ? He has 
God in his heart. 

Look abroad to-day on Nature.* What is this mar- 
vellous change which has come over it ? Everywhere 
is life, growth, beauty : the vast forests are stirred in 
all their awful depths, over the great continent, by 
this invisible advent of divine life which we call 
Spring. Every one of their million million buds is 
stirred, and swells, and shakes out its tender leaves 
to the warm air. Every prairie covers its ocean- 
like surface with grass and flowers. Not a weed 
which creeps but feels it ; not an insect beneath the 
sod but feels it. The great pine -woods of Maine 



* This sermon was preached in the spring. 



WHEN HE CAME TO HIMSELF." 



203 



rejoice, and clap # their hands ; and the majestic moun- 
tains, lifting tlfeir vast forms into the silent depths of 
the upper air, — great sentinels, who stand overlook- 
ing the continents, from age to age, to watch the pro- 
gress of human history, — all are softened and vivi- 
fied by the Spring. What is this mighty change? 
It is only that the earth has lifted itself toward the 
sun. The earth has come to itself, — to its true self ; 
for its true self is in making itself the fountain of all 
this great flood of life. 

And so man comes to himself when he turns him- 
self to God : and, when he does this, he, too, will 
bring forth fruits and flowers ; he will become full, all 
through and through, with productive life ; he will 
be the son of man, because son of God ; he will be 
filled- with all the fulness of manhood, because filled 
with all the fulness of Godhead. The earth comes to 
itself when it comes to the sun ; man comes to him- 
self when he comes to God; society comes to itself 
when it obeys the divine law, and calls no man com- 
mon or unclean, but honors the weak, and helps the 
feeble, and comforts the sad, and cures the sick; 
the Church comes to itself when it ceases to dogma- 
tize about doctrine, to make proselytes to' its party, or 
to make converts by terror and persuasion, — when 
it devotes itself to showing God, the Father of Christ, 
to the heart, intellect, and conscience of man, bringing 
the world thus to God. 

A nation, also, comes to itself, when, instead of 
devoting itself to mere gain and outward prosperity, 



204 " WHEN HE CAME TO HIMSELF." 

it is willing to sacrifice these for the, sake of its great 
ideas ; when it renounces peace and prosperity for 
the sake of justice, right, humanity. Our people, in 
the midst of this terrible storm of war, are more 
truly themselves than they ever were before : they 
have come to self-consciousness. Like my poor friend, 
the nation says, coming to itself, " I am somebody, 
and I am somewhere. I am a nation with ideas and 
duties, and I am here to do them." And that is what 
it has not said before for the last thirty or forty years. 
Patriotism is the self-consciousness of a nation ; and 
while we only were individuals, struggling for our 
own selfish good, we had no patriotism, and could 
have none. 

When men wish to try the force of a cannon, and 
the momentum of its ball, there are two methods by 
which they do it. They suspend a heavy pendulum 
of iron and wood weighing several tons, and shoot 
the ball against it ; then they determine the force of 
the ball by seeing how far the pendulum swings out 
of the perpendicular by the impact of the shot. Or 
else they suspend the gun itself in a pendulum ; and, 
when it is fired, see how far the recoil causes the 
pendulum in which it hangs to swing back out of 
the perpendicular. Now, it is found that the result 
is almost exactly the same in the two cases. The 
gun -pendulum gives precisely the same result as 
the ballistic pendulum; that is to say, the recoil of 
the gun is exactly equal to the force with which it 
projects the ball. So also it is with man's every 



" WHEN HE CAME TO HIMSELF." 205 

action. Action, and re-action are equal in our life. 
" Draw nigh to God, and he draws nigh to you." 
" Arise, and go to your Father/' and your Father 
comes to you. " Give, and it shall be given." Do 
good to others, and love comes back to fill your own 
heart with joy. But seek a selfish good, and you 
lose yourself. Try to live for yourself alone, and 
you go out of yourself; you lose your self-poise, 
your self-consciousness, your self-control. 

Let us, then, come to ourselves by coming to God ; 
by obeying him ; by living for his truth ; by giving 
ourselves to true and just ends ; by filling life with 
nobleness, truth, purity, and love. 



f 



XVI. 

THE CHEERFUL GIVER. 
2 Cor. ix. 7 : " God loveth a cheerful giver." 

" A LMSGIVING and prayer/' says the Koran, " are 
JilL the two wings of the soul, by means of which 
it flies to heaven. The soul cannot mount with either 
by itself, any more than the bird can fly with one 
wing." This is a very good saying, if it means that 
faith and works must go together, — faith without 
works being dead, and works without faith being ma- 
chinery which has never been alive. 

The Jewish Scriptures also lay great stress on 
almsgiving. " He who hath pity on the poor lendeth 
to the Lord," says the proverb. 

But, according to Christianity, it is not enough to 
give : the question is how to give. The spirit in 
which one gives is the important thing. A man may 
give as the Pharisee, who sounded a trumpet before 
him ; or he may give, not letting his left hand know 
what his right hand doeth. Men may give because 
they think they ought, though they had rather not ; or 



THE CHEERFUL GIVER. 



207 



because they are expected to give, and will be con- 
sidered mean if they do not ; or because everybody 
else is giving, and they don't like to be singular. 
They may give grudgingly, and scold about it, and 
say " they have to give, all the time ; " or they may 
give cheerfully, promptly, joyfully, lovingly, just as 
if it was the pleasantest thing in the world to do, 
as indeed it is. 

However, giving money is not the only thing I am 
to speak of this morning. I shall say a word of that, 
and then speak of other ways of giving. But, in all 
our giving, we must give, " not grudgingly, nor of 
necessity ; for God loves a cheerful giver." 

Christianity did not invent giving. Giving is a 
luxury which has been enjoyed in all ages, religions, 
and countries. The Humane Society in Massachusetts 
has built huts on the south side of Cape Cod, where 
ships often go ashore in winter ; and have put straw 
and firewood in them, and other comforts for the poor 
people who have need. But the Brahmin Gangooly 
tells us that the Hindoos, too, practise a wayside hos- 
pitality. Private persons build cottages by the side 
of the roads where the tired passengers refresh them- 
selves. Every cottage has a man hired to keep it, 
and to ask the passer-by to walk in, and be rested. 
The Brahmins do not often go there, for they do not 
think it quite respectable to go to such places ; but 
low-caste travellers go in, and are entertained with 
sugar, pease, and cold water ; and even large tubs of 
water are put outside for the cattle to drink. 



208 THE CHEERFUL GIVER. 

So you see that humanity and hospitality are not 
Christian inventions. They were invented when God 
Almighty invented man, and put into him such a com- 
plex host of tendencies, reaching out in all directions, 
some downward to the earth, some upward to the 
skies, some abroad toward his fellow-man. Self-love 
was put into him, but sympathy to balance it ; free- 
dom was given him, but something fatal to balance 
it ; the love of getting, but the love of giving too ; 
the love of keeping to himself, and the love of helping 
others. 

What, then, is specially Christian in giving? I 
think it is love, — love to God and man, blending in 
one in every gift ; and love is always a cheerful 
giver. Love does not grumble at being called on ever 
so often. Love does not merely give what is neces- 
sary -or expected: it chooses to surprise by some un- 
expected present, — something entirely uncalled for. 
Suppose you should meet a lover going with a mag- 
nificent bunch of roses to give to the lady to whom 
he was engaged yesterday, and should say, "It is not 
necessary to give so many ; you have a dozen roses 
there, — three or four would have been enough ; " or, 
" Why do you give her that handsomely bound book ? 
one in cloth would answer," — I do not think he would 
thank you for your economical suggestion. He does 
not give grudgingly, or of necessity. But Mr. Beecher 
tells us that there are " many professing Christians 
who are secretly vexed on account of the charity 
they have to bestow, and the self-denial they have to 



THE CHEERFUL GIVER. 



209 



use. If, instead of the smooth prayers they do pray, 
they would speak out the things they really feel, they 
would say, when they go home at night, ' 0 Lord ! I 
met a poor wretch of yours to-day, a miserable un- 
washed brat, and I gave him sixpence, and I have 
been sorry for it ever since ; ' or, 1 0 Lord ! if I had 
not signed those articles of faith, I might have gone 
to the theatre this evening. Your religion deprives 
me of a great deal of enjoyment ; but I mean to stick 
to it. There is no other way of getting into heaven, 
I suppose. 7 " 

A gift which expresses love carries gladness with 
it, and leaves gladness behind it ; blessing him who 
gives, and him who takes. Gifts among friends are 
pleasant : but I do not know that there is any thing 
particularly Christian about them ; and, unless you 
take great care, they will suddenly become uncom- 
fortable, and lose their first freedom. They should 
never come to be expected. Better to remember 
what Jesus said : u Thou, when thou givest a feast, 
call not thy rich friends and neighbors, who can give 
to thee again ; but call in the poor, the maimed, the 
halt, and the blind." On the whole, people who love 
each other had better not give a great deal to each 
other. They have already given the best thing in 
loving each other. 

Suppose, then, we 'give only to strangers and to the 
poor. There is great delight in giving when the gift 
comes unexpectedly, and when it goes a great way. 
But there are rocks on all sides ; and here, too, we 

14 



210 



THE CHEERFUL GIYER. 



risk becoming self-satisfied and ostentatious in our 
charities, as though Ave had done some great thing in 
giving a little of our superfluity : so that what Jesus 
says, of not letting the left hand know what the right 
hand does, may come in well as a wholesome safe- 
guard against such dangers. 

The Church, in its anxiety to do all the good it can, 
sometimes forgets its Master's rule. All the mission- 
ary and Bible societies, and all philanthropic societies, 
appeal to very mixed motives, — to the motive of 
ostentation, by publishing lists of donors in all annual 
reports ; to the motive of necessity, by showing to 
every man how much is expected of him ; to the mo- 
tive of conscience, by making it seem to be an abso- 
lute and commanding duty, which it would be a sin 
to shirk ; to the motive of fear, teaching that God 
may punish our unwise and unrighteous economy by 
some sudden retribution ; and even to the motive of 
worldly gain, hinting that those who give freely for 
religious objects are apt to be largely rewarded in 
this world. In this way, Christians are induced to 
give much to all these great charities ; but they 
cease to give freely and joyfully. They are educated 
to give grudgingly, and as of necessity, by the very 
process which is taken to induce* them to give. 

Now, it seems to me that so much pleasure comes 
from giving in a right way and for right purposes, 
that the Christian Church, by this time, ought to have 
been educated to a large, systematic, and cheerful 
benevolence. 



THE CHEERFUL GIVER. 



211 



But there are other kinds of giving besides giving 
money. And the second kind of giving I have to 
mention is giving up. It is making sacrifices of what 
we like ; giving up to conscience and right and truth 
our desires, ease, and comfort. We are all called on 
to do this. No one can have his way, or do what he 
would like to do. But, when we give up, it is Chris- 
tian to give up " not grudgingly nor of necessity. 77 
God loves a cheerful giver also here. 

Many people parade their sacrifices, exaggerate 
what they endure for conscience' sake, and make loud 
lamentation over their hard fate. Jesus says, " Thou, 
when thou fastest, anoint thy head, and wash thy 
face, that thou appear not unto men to fast." Haydon 
spent his life in painting historical pictures, in quar- 
relling with those who did not like them, and in scold- 
ing because they were not better liked ; crying out 
against the false taste of the age, that would give a 
ballet-dancer a hundred pounds an evening, and would 
not pay him for his pictures. But I think such com- 
plaints show that a man has not a pure love for his art. 
What he chiefly wanted were fame and money, not 
success in his art. I do not think that Fra Angelico 
and Andrea del Sarto, when painting, for a few dollars,, 
pictures which cannot be bought now for as many thou- 
sands, complained that they made too great sacrifices 
for their art. Their art was reward in itself. It was 
reward enough to see the gradual realization of their 
dream ; to see the face of saint or holy martyr or ten- 
der angelic child come beaming out on their canvas, 



212 



THE CHEERFUL GIVER. 



— their heaven-sent inspiration fixed in glory and 
beauty to elevate and sweeten life for generations 
unborn. Whenever a man makes a sacrifice for any 
great cause or noble end ; he is repaid, and more than 
repaid, at the time, if his motive be pure. " He has 
a hundred -fold more now in the present time." 
Therefore, how cheerful and happy are most artists 
in their poverty ! How cheerful and happy are the 
men and women who work in any great humane 
cause, or contend for any unpopular truth ! They are 
amply compensated for popular neglect or odium by 
the ardent love of a few, by their own secure sense 
of strength, by the consciousness of being right, by 
the foresight of an ultimate triumph of their cause, 
by the knowledge that it is even now triumphant. 
Only let love be the motive, not vanity or pride, and 
you do not know that you are giving up any thing. 
All great discoverers, like Columbus, Kane, Parry; 
all great inventors, like those who invented printing, 
cotton machinery, the steam-engine, the steamboat, 
the locomotive, — live in poverty and neglect, and, 
all their lives, are usually called, dreamers and vision- 
aries ; but they are very cheerful, for they are in love 
with their ideas. 

If you look over the Harvard-College catalogue, 
you will see that there are some families in New Eng- 
land which are always represented. In almost every 
class there is one of them, — an Allen or a Stearns 
or an Abbot or a Parker or a Williams ; and many of 
these names are in Italics, indicating that they became 



THE CHEERFUL GIVER. 



213 



clergymen. The same names are also in all the other 
New-England colleges. Each one of these country 
clergymen, on a salary of six or eight hundred dollars, 
sends all his sons to college, just as he was sent; and 
they go through the Union as ministers, physicians, 
lawyers, merchants, members of Congress, useful 
men, leading men everywhere. How do these cler- 
gymen contrive, with their small salaries, to send all 
their sons to college ? Why, the whole family unite 
in glad sacrifices and self-denials. When the time 
comes for another son to go, the father sells his horse, 
and gives up his newspaper, with his annual journey 
to the May anniversaries ; the mother makes butter, 
and sells both it and her eggs ; the daughters teach 
in the primary schools in the neighboring towns. 
All earn a little, and save a little. The boy himself 
teaches school in the vacation, and perhaps earns 
something more by teaching the idle son of a rich 
man ; and so he gets through college. Do they do 
this grudgingly ? No : they enjoy their sacrifices, and 
do not appear unto their neighbors to fast. Very 
often they go without meat for dinner, or without sugar 
in their tea ; and that, I think, is a better fast in the 
sight of God than eating fish instead of meat because it 
is Friday, and telling all your neighbors that you have 
been fasting. I do not refer now to honest Catholics, 
who fast in Lent and on Friday because they have 
been taught so, and know no better ; but to those 
modern Catholics, who play being Catholic, and have 
a sort of sesthetic and sentimental religion, made up 
of poor imitations of a worn-out ritual. 



2U 



THE CHEERFUL GIVER. 



The third kind of giving is giving ourselves, — 
giving ourselves up to God by the submission and 
surrender of our wills ; or what we call conversion. 

Nothing shows more strikingly how low are the 
motives in much of our religion than the gloomy way 
in which men become religious. Too many are driven 
to God by fear of his anger or of an outward hell. 
They had rather stay away from him if they could, 
and usually do stay away as long as they can. They 
postpone religion till they are too old for any thing 
else, and then lead a religious life, looking discon- 
tented and gloomy, as if to love God and be loved by 
him was the most disagreeable, though the most 
necessary, of all duties. 

But what is being religious, but always seeing 
God's infinite love in every thing, and loving him all 
the time ? It is seeing his mercy in the sun and sky ; 
in the hills and plains ; in daily life, with its discipline 
and education ; in the friendship of our friends ; in 
our insight into new truths ; in the grand opportuni- 
ties of daily service of the human race which he 
affords us. It is hearing and answering his invitation 
to come to him to be inspired, to be filled with 
light, to be filled with love, to be filled with power. 

Suppose all the little buds and seeds should say, 
" Oh, dear ! April has come ; and now we shall have to 
unpack ourselves, and go out of these snug little 
chambers where we have been sleeping all winter, 
with nothing to do but rest. It is getting warmer and 
warmer every day. Strange thrills pass through us, 
1 the blind motions of the Spring.' But do let us stay 



THE CHEERFUL GIVER. 215 

as long as we can, shut up here ; for it will be a very 
gloomy thing to go out into the soft summer air, and 
unfold ourselves in the sunlight into tremulous leaves, 
bending stalks, and fragrant flowers." But Nature 
does not look unhappy in unfolding. " It is my faith 
that every flower enjoys the life it breathes." And 
why, if seeds and buds enjoy unfolding in the sun, 
should not our souls enjoy unfolding in the sunlight 
of our Father's infinite tenderness and perfect love ? 

Here are two young folks that have just agreed 
that life would be misery, except they can live for 
each other, and give themselves up for each other. 
Now, suppose that these young people, just falling in 
love, should say, " What a very solemn thing it is to 
have to love each other ! " Suppose they should go 
about with long faces, and put off the marriage-day 
for as many years as they could, saying they were 
afraid they did not love each other well enough to be 
married, and finally, on their wedding-day, feel as if 
they had made some great sacrifice for each other, 
and given up a great deal. That would not be love, 
would it? 

All human love is typical of divine love. Love is 
love, whether its object be God or man. It is that 
miracle by which we are able to live out of ourselves 
in another life, — absolutely escaping from ourselves. 
Man is selfish, say the wise sceptical philosophers ; 
but what they do not see is, that this centripetal force 
of self-preservation is balanced by a centrifugal 
force of enthusiastic interest in that which is least 



216 



THE CHEERFUL GIVER. 



ourselves. There is native to man a joy in finding 
something other than himself, — a joy in giving 
himself up to the life of another, and thinking only 
what that other is and does and wishes. This is just 
as natural to man as self-love ; and, while self-love is 
necessary, self-surrender is joyful. 

Then why should we give ourselves grudgingly, 
and as of necessity, to the love of God ? Why hesi- 
tate and tremble, and think we are not good enough 
to love him, or to be loved by him ; and that it is some 
great sacrifice we are making, when we enter into 
the sweet peace of our heavenly Father's tenderness 
and grace ? 

I understand thus why J esus, when he called a dis- 
ciple, wished him to come at once. It was the test of 
the motive. Love does not hesitate. Love leaves 
all, and follows. Love does not say, " Suffer me first 
to go and bury my father." Those disciples who 
dropped their nets in the boat, and followed Jesus, 
did not hesitate, calculate, grieve, or look gloomy, but 
were attracted by the words and character of Jesus. 
They did not wish to leave him : they wished to hear 
all he had to say ; and so they went with him, though 
they knew not that, in thus going, they were to 
become the great apostles and leaders of the human 
race. 

But there is still another kind of giving which it is 
hard to do cheerfully ; and that is the giving-ujJ of 
those we love, when we are invited to let them go to 
be with God and his angels in a higher world. 



THE CHEERFUL GIVER. 



217 



Yet love can conquer this reluctance too, — love 
which sets aside private needs, dependence, neces- 
sity, for the good of the* one loved. Affection, puri- 
•fied in the fire of religion, can understand Christ when 
he says, " If ye loved me. ye would rejoice, because I 
go to my Father ; for my Father is greater than I." 

This joy comes in the midst of grief to all who 
have any pure love for their friends, — grief with joy 
inside of it, tears with deeper smiles, like the sun 
breaking through the driving rain. It is joy that 
they are safe ; that their life cannot cease to be bright; 
that they are above desire and fear ; that they have 
outsoared the shadow of our night ; that they are free 
from the contagion of the world's slow stain; that they 
have arisen with Jesus, and are with his Father and 
our Father. So that it is not strange or morbid to 
have with our natural grief also a profound joy when 
those we love best ascend by God's invitation to him. 
Suppose you should meet a friend, and, seeing him 
very happy, should ask the reason, and he should say, 
" It is because my son is to leave me, to go where 
I shall not see him for the next three years." — 
" Well, 77 you would say, " that is strange, and a little 
unnatural, I think, and not quite parental, that you 
should be so glad to lose your son.' 7 — " Ah ! but un- 
derstand me, 77 he replies. " I am not glad to lose my 
son : but I have been wishing and making exertions 
to get him a situation ; which is just what he desires 
and needs; which is exactly suited to him; which will 
give him present comfort, together with education, 



218 



THE CHEERFUL GIVER. 



and opportunity of progress. It is the very thing of 
all things for him ; and I have just heard that it is 
given to him. This is what 'I am glad of." — - 11 Ah ! " 
say you : " that is not so unnatural, then, after all.' 7 

Gladly, cheerfully, the young men of our land have 
given themselves to their country in its hour of peril. 
Gladly, earnestly, they have gone out to live or to die, 
as God might determine. Gladly, yet with tears, 
have their mothers, sisters, wives, friends, bidden 
them farewell, not wishing to hold them back from 
the heroic and noble work ; and so they go, and fall, 
and rise, — rise into a higher life with God, rise into 
the great historic figures of our history. They stand 
for ever as illustrious teachers of the old classic truth, 
that it is sweet and honorable to die for one's coun- 
try, — sweet and honorable to die for any truly great 
cause. They shall teach comiDg generations, if per- 
chance we tend once more in times of peace and 
prosperity to forget it, that there is in us all some- 
thing higher than self-love, something stronger than 
the love of ease ; that God has made us all with power 
to go joyfully to suffer in a good cause ; and that, in 
all such suffering, there is more joy than pain. 

But it is not necessary to be a soldier in order to 
give up our life cheerfully to God, truth, and human- 
ity. I stood this week by the remains of a young 
woman, who was a cheerful giver of all she had to the 
cause of God and man. She was a teacher for many 
years in a primary school in this city ; and she did not 
teach, as many do, " grudgingly and of necessity," 



THE CHEERFUL GIVER. 



219 



but put her whole heart into this work, and so en- 
nobled it to a sacred mission. The poor little Irish 
children were, to her, Christ's little ones, and each of 
them was precious to her ; so that, systematizing her 
life, she had time every day after school to visit them 
in order at their homes, taking the last first, and 
sweetly emphasizing with special tenderness those 
whose homes were most forlorn and whose surround- 
ings least favorable. If they needed clothes or shoes, 
she always provided them, — going to generous peo- 
ple, and telling each case : and, as she knew all about 
it, she never failed ; or, if she failed, she took it from 
her own small salary, with which she had other things 
to do besides taking care of herself. So she was a 
providence to so many little children, who never 
knew any Christian love till they knew hers ; and so 
she made her schoolhouse a divine temple, and her 
work a holy mission ; and when she went, last week, 
into the world, " so far, so near," her works preceded, 
attended, and followed her, because she was a cheer- 
ful giver. 

God has never left himself without a witness any- 
where in the world. I was reading the other day an 
account of a Roman funeral. When the head of one 
of the Roman families died, all his ancestors, whose 
statues stood in his hall, represented by their de- 
scendants, went with him to the tomb. But first the 
procession went to the forum ; and then the represen- 
tatives of all his great ancestors, each in his appro- 
priate dress, with consular robes, or senatorial toga, 



220 THE CHEERFUL GIVER. 

• 

as worn in life, seated themselves by the rostra, in 
the curule-chairs, while the nearest descendant re- 
counted the deeds of the departed warrior or states- 
man. Was it not some word of God in the hearts of 
those old Romans which taught them thus to make 
life triumphant over death, and to carry the body to 
the tomb, not talking of what was lost, but of what 
was won and saved ? God sends his consolations and 
his intuitions of truth into every race ; and the human 
hearts of his children cry aloud to him, for comfort 
in their sorrow, from all countries and lands, and are 
fed. 

The rules of Christian bounty are therefore simple. 
First, it should be generous. Jesus says, " Give, 
hoping for nothing again." Secondly, it should be 
modest. Jesus says, " When thou doest alms, let not 
thy left hand know what thy right hand doeth." 
Thirdly, it should be spontaneous, not waiting to be 
sought for, or following routine. Many persons give 
only where they are expected to give ; not taking the 
initiative, but always waiting till they are asked. 
But true bounty is like the man in the Gospel who 
went out into the highway, and called those in to his 
feast who expected no such invitation, and were no 
doubt much surprised at it. And, fourthly, all true 
bounty proceeds from love to God and man. For 
" though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and 
have not love, it profiteth me nothing." Such are the 
rules of Christian bounty. And all such bounty re- 
sembles the divine bounty ; for God gives cheerfully 



THE CHEERFUL GIVER. 



221 



and generously. He gives, hoping for nothing again ; 
for he gives to the bad man, who makes no return, 
as well as to the good. His sun shines on the un- 
thankful as well as upon the grateful. God gives 
cheerfully. All nature is full of cheer. The gifts of 
God fall freely and willingly from the skies. He also 
gives a thousand things secretly, as well as openly, 
not letting his left hand know what his right hand 
doeth. He hides his mercies, so that we do not know 
them till long after. He conceals his blessings under 
the form of evils. Again : the gifts of God are spon- 
taneous. He gives without waiting to be asked. He 
not only answers our prayer, but teaches us how to 
pray. And, finally, he gives all from love : for love is 
his essence ; and the explanation of all existence, of 
all history, of all life, is to be found in the necessary 
activity of infinite love. If we would be the children 
of our Father in heaven, let us give as he does. Let 
us give like him in these particulars, and we shall 
give well, whether we give our means, ourselves, or 
that which is most dear to us. Give cheerfully, not 
grudgingly ; give modestly, not ostentatiously ; give 
generously, not selfishly ; give spontaneously, and not 
as of necessity ; and, in all these, give lovingly. 

Jesus was a man of sorrows. But the greatest 
artists, in painting his features, have recognized that 
beneath all sorrow was a perfect peace. The medie- 
val and monkish artists gave him an expression of 
dejection, and of passive submission to inevitable ill ; 
but the greater painters who succeeded joined in 



222 



THE CHEERFUL GIVER. 



the Master's face the perfect harmony of sorrow and 
joy, blended and made at one in a divine peace. Sor- 
row is there : for he had always before him human 
woe and sin ; the imperfect present ; the degraded and 
unworthy condition of man ; the soul enchained, and 
held down from its great ideal. But a deeper joy is 
also there, — joy in the sense that God was with and 
in every struggling soul, every aspiration for good, 
every hunger and thirst after righteousness. These 
artists are right ; for Jesus began his first sermon, 
not by saying, " Cursed are the heretics," but by say- 
ing, u Blessed are the pure in spirit ; " not by saying, 
" Cursed are the sinners," but "Blessed are those who 
mourn over their sin." They are blessed while they 
mourn. Like their Master, they are happier in their 
grief than others in their gladness. 

" That high suffering which we dread 
A higher joy discloses : 
Men saw the thorns on Jesus' brow ; 
But angels saw the roses." 

" God loves a cheerful giver." Jesus was his well- 
beloved Son, giving himself cheerfully for man, giving 
his life a ransom for many. God loves us when we 
follow Jesus, — when we are cheerful in our submis- 
sion ; cheerful in our sacrifice ; cheerful in our trial ; 
cheerful in our loneliness, our bereavement, our sor- 
row ; cheerful even in our struggle with sin, — know- 
ing that we shall come off conquerors, and more than 
conquerors, through him who loved us ; and that 
nothing can separate us from the love of God. 



XVII. 



THE GRACE OF GOD. 
Eph. ii. 8 : " By grace te are saved, . through faith ; and 

THAT NOT OF YOURSELVES : IT IS THE GIFT OF GOD." 

TjWERY THING- which we have in this world 
— all our joy ; our culture, our powers of body 
and mind, our outward and inward wealth — comes 
to us in one of two ways : it comes with or without 
our own efforts ; it comes as a consequence of what 
we do, or without any reference to what we do ; it 
comes as retributioD, in the form of reward and pun- 
ishment ; or it comes as free gift or grace. When 
good comes to us in consequence of what we have 
done, we call it reward ; when evil comes in conse- 
quence of what we have done, we call it punishment ; 
when good comes, not in consequence of any thing 
we have done, we call it grace, a free gift, or mercy ; 
when evil comes, not in consequence of what we have 
done, we do not call it punishment, but trial, disci- 
pline, education. 

These are the two sides of life ; these are the two 
laws which govern us all. Gift and payment, — these 
are the positive and negative poles of human life. 



224 



THE GRACE OF GOD. 



Now, moralists lay the greatest stress on the law of 
retribution, while religious people lay the greatest 
stress on th.e law of grace. When the question is 
raised, " How is one to be saved ? " moralists reply, 
" By works, by doing one's duty, by trying to obey 
God, by being faithful in all relations of life." Reli- 
gious people, on the contrary, — all Orthodox theolo- 
gians especially, — say, " Not at all. We are not 
saved by works, but by grace, through faith. It is 
the pure work of God, no work of ours, which saves 
us, if we are saved." 

Now, I shall try to show that the theologians are 
nearer right than the moralists on this point. Herein 
I shall, no doubt, depart from the traditions of the 
Unitarians ; for Unitarians have, on this subject, 
usually sided with the moralists, and not with the 
theologians. I shall, however, also depart in this 
discussion somewhat from the theologians, because I 
shall translate the whole matter out of the language 
of theology into that of common life and daily experi- 
ence. Instead of saying, " By grace we are saved, 
through faith j and that not of ourselves : it is the 
gift of God," I would put it in this form, as being 
more intelligible : — 

"Every one, in his heart, desires to be better than 
he is. Every one would like to be, not a bad, but a 
good man. No one desires to be mean, false, cow- 
ardly ; but each wishes to be noble, generous, pure, 
true, loving, and beloved. We all would like to 
lead a higher, nobler, better life than we do. Now, 



THE GRACE OF GOD. 225 

this better life is what we mean by being saved. It 
is going up, not down ; toward God, not toward Sa- 
tan ; toward the heaven which is the home of all 
angelic, loving souls, not to the hell which is the 
home of all mean, selfish, cruel, hateful, and demoni- 
acal beings." 

Now, the question is, " How are we to go upward ? 
how are we to grow better ? how are we, in short, to 
be saved? " 

In passing down the street a day or two since,' I 
saw a placard announcing a convention qf " all per- 
sons who believe in the speedy personal coming of 
Christ ; and who also believe in the immortality of 
the righteous, and destruction of the wicked." As I 
•walked on, I said to myself, But who are the right- 
eous, and who are the wicked ? 

I suppose the righteous are those who do right, 
and the wicked those who do wrong. But who will 
claim to be righteous in this sense? How much 
better is one man than another? The differences 
between good men and bad men are, no doubt, very 
important as regards our relations to each other here. 
A man who steals and lies and misbehaves himself is 
a very inconvenient neighbor, a very uncomfortable 
companion ; but when we come to talk of guilt and 
of merit in the sight of G-od, and in view of eternal 
judgment, how insignificant the differences between 
men appear ! Those who believe in the final destruc- 
tion of the wicked must have little hope for them- 
selves or any one else : for who is not wicked ? who 

15 



226 



THE GRACE OF GOD. 



can claim to be good ? who can pretend to have led a 
perfectly pure, true, generous life ? who has been 
good for a year at a time, a month, a day ? Good 
heavens ! who can say that he has been, even for an 
hour, good, in any great and noble sense of the 
word ? 

We may judge, then, that we are not likely to be 
saved by our works. If we go up toward heaven, 
escape from evil, and become pure, true, fit com- 
panions for angels, and fit to be near God, we shall 
not have made ourselves so. I think we shall have 
to be made so by God. 

By this is not meant that we have nothing to do 
ourselves in order to be saved. I believe that work 
is an important element of salvation itself. Only I 
do not think that we work in order to make God love 
us ; but, on the contrary, it is his love that makes us 
work. It is the Divine Grace — that is, the love 
and mercy of our Father in heaven — which makes 
us faithful and obedient, inspires us with ardor, and 
helps us to serve him. The grace of God, which 
brings salvation, has appeared to men j teaching us, 
that, denying ungodliness and worldly lusts, we should 
live soberly, righteously, and godly in this world. 
That is, our temperance, our self-control, is a pure 
gift of God ; our righteousness, or just behavior to 
men, is a pure gift of God ; and our religion is a pure 
gift. All our work has a gift at the root of it. God 
sows his love in our heart as a seed, out of which, 
after a while, our work grows. 



THE GRACE OP GOD. 



227 



Nearly every thing which comes to us in this 
world comes by grace. The doctrine of salvation by 
God's love was first uttered by Jesus, when he said, 
" Be the children of your Father in heaven ; for his 
sun shines on the evil and the good, and he sends 
his rain on the just and unjust." He uttered it again 
in the parable of the laborer in the vineyard, who 
wrought one hour, but whom G-od made equal with 
those " who had borne the burden and heat of the 
day." 

There was a book written by Dr. Combe, called 
the " Constitution of Man," — a very popular work, 
— the immense success of which is due to the fact, 
that it •sets forth in the fullest form the opposite 
doctrine of works. " Salvation by works " is the 
doctrine of that excellent book. " As a man sows, so 
shall he reap." He who has earned five talents shall 
be over five cities; he who has earned two talents, 
over two cities ; he who has earned one, over one 
city : strict justice, impartial retribution, unerring 
law, a certain retaliation. This is all perfectly true. 
It is also taught by Jesus ; it was taught by Moses ; 
it is taught by Nature. He who does not work shall 
not eat ; he who puts his finger in the fire shall be 
burned. Jesus did not come to destroy these laws, 
but to fulfil them. 

In the other world, as in this world, these laws 
apply. There, as here, there will be a perfect retri- 
bution. There will be rewards and punishments in 
the other life, just as there are here. Those who 



228 



THE GEACE OF GOD. 



have done much shall stand high ; those who have 
been faithful in few things shall be rulers over many 
things. Jesus does not set aside any of these laws. 
Combe's book on the Constitution of Man is as true 
in heaven as on earth. 

But, though Christ does not come to destroy the 
law of recompense, he does come to fulfil it. We 
must work out our salvation with fear and trem- 
bling; but we can work it out because God works 
in us to will and to do of his good pleasure. That is, 
God is in our hearts, just as he is in Nature ; his sun 
shines in the hearts of bad men, as in the hearts of 
good men, to make daylight and warmth come in. 
He does not wait till they have begun to be good : 
he works in them to will. He does not leave them 
to do all the work by themselves : he works in them 
to do. 

What a terrible task, what an impossible duty, we 
should have to perform, if we had to work out our 
salvation from evil, our salvation into good, all by 
ourselves and from ourselves ! What utter discour- 
agement and despair, if we had not these promises ! 

But see how everywhere the law of grace pours 
out its unceasing blessings within and around the 
law of works ! God pays us our wages with strict 
accuracy every evening ; but he gives us a thousand 
times as much as he pays us. So I have seen a 
father agreeing with his little son to pay him so many 
cents a day for doing such and such little pieces of 
work. The child's mind is full of what he is earn- 



THE GRACE OF GOD. 



229 



ing ; and he is thus encouraged to form habits of 
diligence, punctuality, self-denial, and perseverance : 
but, while the father pays the child his few cents a 
day, he is giving the child home, clothing, food, 
school, and all sorts of comforts and blessings. He 
is working for his child's present and future good 
all day long. So it is with us : we are such little 
children. God pays us regularly, with reward and 
punishment, our three cents a day; but he gives us 
all the perfect beauty and blessing, which is new 
every morning in the divine providence of this 
world. 

Now see how the grace of God, which brings sal- 
vation, has appeared to us in Nature and Providence, 
and how it has taught us to deny ungodliness and 
worldly lusts, and to live soberly, righteously, and 
godly in this world. 

Part of the goodness there is in this world comes 
naturally. It is in the organization of soul and body. 
The sense of right and wrong, the delicacy of con- 
science, the feeling of moral obligation, which is in 
us, we did not make ourselves. God gives this to 
us : he gives it new all the time. It is a light from 
him, shining into our hearts. It is his Holy Spirit 
dwelling in us, warning, advising, restraining, impel- 
ling us. It is in every human soul. His sun shines on 
the evil and on the good. This holy monitor, this 
careful inspector, this sacred, solemn voice, is from 
grace, from love. It is the Father's arm, held round 
every child 4 to keep him safe from evil. 



230 



THE GRACE OF GOD. 



Some have more of this, some less. Some persons 
seem to have a great instinct of conscience, a good 
genius for virtue. But they do not deserve the 
credit of it. They do not make themselves so : God 
makes them so. Others have less. That is no fault 
of theirs.^ So in an army ; on a field-day, some stand 
nearer to the commander, and hear his voice more 
plainly ; and others far off, where they have to listen 
sharply to hear the command. It is not a merit to be 
placed near, nor a fault to be placed far away : but 
it is a fault if we do not try hard to hear the com- 
mand ; a fault if we do not listen. 

So the grace of God puts into our organization 
sympathy, good-nature, kindliness ; giving more to 
some, and less to others, but giving to all their 
share. Some are, by their very nature, sweet and 
gentle, kind and self-forgetting, and ready to sympa- 
thize.' They cannot help being sweet and sunny. 
It is like a perpetual Sunday when they are near us. 
But that is no merit of theirs : it is the gift of God. 

And so some persons have, by nature, a certain 
sagacity, and a justness of perception, which keep 
them from going wrong. Good sense is an important 
element in good behavior. And some persons are 
full of hope, and see the great things which may be 
done; and so inspire others to labor, and labor them- 
selves, in the light of a noble expectation. But that 
is of grace. God made them so : they did not make 
themselves so. 

We have no right to blame people for not being 



THE GRACE OF GOD. 



231 



born with all these delicate and charming qualities. 
Thank God for those who have them, and be willing 
to rejoice in their light ; but do not blame those to 
whom God has not given the great torches and ma- 
jestic blazing candelabra, but only penny candles, in 
this illumination of Nature. 

The religious instinct in man is also, to a great 
extent, organic. What most men call religion, — the 
tendency to adore, the joy of piet}^ the feeling which 
carries one to worship, the satisfaction in religious 
ceremonies and forms, in liturgies and sacred occa- 
sions, — this is a constitutional thing. Some races 
have more, some less. The ancient Egyptians had 
the most of any races ever yet known. They lived 
to worship. Their national life was in worship. 
Their political constitution was a hierarchy. It was 
a government of priests. So some persons now are 
made very prone to worship : others have little of 
this tendency. It is a deep and beautiful element in 
the soul ; but it is no merit to have it, no sin to be 
without it. 

Part of our human goodness comes from these 
natural sources ; but another part comes from educa- 
tion, from outward influence. This also is of grace, 
not of works. 

Look back on your life, and see what blessed influ- 
ences have come to you to form your character, to 
ennoble your aims, to inspire you with a true spirit, — 
from the home of your childhood, from your father 
and mother and the dear friends of your youth, from 



232 



THE GRACE OF GOD. 



the revered and holy men and women whose mature 
virtues rose around you, like solid walls of marble, to 
keep out evil influence. You heard, in your child- 
hood, good and just sentiments. It was taken for 
granted, in all the conversation, that men were to be 
true and pure, upright and firm ; that life was a trust, 
not given for selfish ends, but to be used for good. 
It was not the direct moral teaching you heard at 
home which did you the most good, but the indi- 
rect, spontaneous, automatic teaching, — that which 
came from the character of others, not from their 
thoughts. We, my dear friends, have been born in a 
community saturated by the teachings of the New Tes- 
tament. The conscience of society has been educated 
by the Sermon on the Mount. In every New-Eng- 
land village, when the Sunday bells send their mellow 
invitations to praise and prayer over the sleeping 
hills and valleys, on each returning day of Jesus Christ, 
the little children are taken into his arms, and pressed 
to his loving heart. The sun of Christianity shines 
on the evil and the good. Not a reckless boy, the 
torment of his home ; not a hard, grasping, selfish, 
sharp-featured country trader or lawyer, — but has, in 
the depth of his soul, some sweet and holy influence 
which came to him as a divine gift when he was a 
little child ; and there it is down in the depth of his 
heart to-day. 

Who is there that has not loved, and has not been 
loved ? What did we do to merit that tender love of 
parent and child, of grandfather and grandmother, 



THE GRACE OF GOD. 



233 



of husband and wife, — that generous, self-forgetting 
devotion of friend, of brother and sister ? What did 
we ever do to be so loved ? Who ever deserved 
half the love he has received ? Of the good in 
our hearts, how large a part has flowed from this 
grace of God, which made others come to us with 
their noble, frank, true-hearted affection ! All love is 
of grace. It is never deserved. Nobody ever de- 
served to be loved ; but being loved makes us more 
deserving than any thing else can. 

" Love is too young to know what conscience is ; 
But who knows not conscience is born of love 1 " 

Then more of our goodness than we think comes 
from the divine presence of God in Nature. The 
calm succession of day and night, of spring and sum- 
mer, teaches us the dignity of order and law. The 
serene beauty of the sky and the fields; the wide- 
spread joy coming from the clouds, the forest, the 
grassy meadows, the flowing streams, — take us out of 
our own little projects and plans, and teach us that 
what God has made common to all men is the best 
thing he has given us. Nature, enlarging our con- 
ceptions, unites us with our fellow-men, and teaches 
us humanity. And who ever did any thing to earn 
this? God gives all this lavish beauty and abun- 
dant glory to every creature who has eyes to see it 
and a heart to feel it. 

So, too, the grace of God has given us Jesus Christ. 
We, who have heard, learned, and been taught of 
him, did nothing ourselves to obtain that privilege. 



234 



THE GRACE OF GOD. 



It is God's free love which caused us to he born in 
this Christendom, not in China ; in Protestantism, not 
in Italy or Spain ; and under the most liberal form of 
Protestantism, where God is seen as a father, loving 
all his children, and not as a stern judge or an awful 
angry*king. I 

Thus we see how the grace of God has been the 
source of nearly all the good there is in us. Some 
of it has come to us in our original organization, 
some has been given us through education, some 
through Christianity. And now the gospel says to 
us, that all this is only the preparation for a deeper 
and fuller life of love which God means to give to all 
of us on the condition of faith. That is, trust him. 
Do not doubt his nearness, his influence, his good- 
will. Believe that, what he has begun, he means to 
» carry on and finish. Trust in your Father, and each 
day accept, as from him, the gift of life, the inflowing 
light of conscience and of reason ; the inflowing love 
which draws out your heart to those around you, 
the inflowing aspiration which longs for some better 
and higher goodness. It is always ready to come 
into your soul. Only open your heart to receive this 
new life, each day, in faith. This faith in God and 
ourselves will make us do more, make us more faith- 
ful, conscientious, obedient. We shall work more 
when we do not work to gain a reward or to escape 
a punishment, but because God is our Father, and 
we know it, and so feel perfectly safe. 

This is the true doctrine of salvation by grace. 



THE GRACE OF GOD. 



235 



We are safe because God is our Father. And the 
true doctrine of work is, that we will work, because, 
since God is on our side, it is worth wMle to work : 
our work is sure to be effectual, and come to some- 
thing. 

The Christian Church rests entirely on this doc- 
trine. Reward and punishment separate men : the 
doctrine of God as a judge puts each man alone with 
his conscience. When men are striving for a prize, 
each man strives alone for himself ; but, as soon as 
God is seen as a Father, the Church becomes a family. 
Then it is not the good alone who belong to the 
family, but all men, because all are God's children. 

The only condition of membership in the true 
Church is to believe that God is your Father ; then 
you at once see that all who believe it, with you 
are your brothers, and know it. You look on them 
as brothers, not because of any goodness in them ; 
they look on you as their brother, not because of any 
goodness in you, but because you are God's child 
just as much as they are. 

The Church is founded on this doctrine. We be- 
lieve that God is our Father, not our Judge or King. 
We believe that we are to be saved by his grace, not 
by our own peculiar or special goodness. Therefore 
we recognize all as brothers who recognize God as 
their Father. Christ is our Master, because he 
teaches us this. We wish to learn it more fully : 
therefore we come together. We invite all to join 
us, and become members of the Church, if they be- 
lieve God to be their Father j if they can trust in 



236 THE GRACE OF GOD. 



him as able and willing to save their souls. If they 
feel safe because they see God as a Father, they can 
take each Other as brethren and sisters, and try to 
work out this salvation together. 

Therefore, my friends, in conclusion of our medi- 
tations, let me give you, as the sum and substance of 
the Christian doctrine of grace, these statements : — 

1. God's free, fatherly love has made all men to 
become his spiritual children. His grace has pre- 
destined us, before the foundation of the world, to 
become wholly his, free from sin, and full of truth 
and holiness. 

2. We become his children as soon as we see that 
he is our Father; and our salvation is this,* — we are 
safe as long as we believe that we are God's children, 
because then we shall always go to him in any temp- 
tation and danger. We are therefore saved through 
faith by grace. 

3. We work out this salvation by obedience ; cor- 
recting all our faults, learning to do all we ought, not 
in any strength of our own, but by • means of the 
inflowing life and love of God, which he pours into 
our hearts so long as they are' open to him. 

This is the gospel. It is not the law of Moses. It 
is not the law of morality. It is not the law of pru- 
dence. But it fulfils all these laws by making us do, 
from gratitude, love, hope, and faith, what these laws 
make us do from fear, from conscience, from good 
sense, and a refined, virtuous prudence ; and so we 
may say always as Paul said, " By the grace of God, 
I am what I am." 



XVIII. 



"NO MAN CARED FOR MY SOUL." 
. Ps. cxlii. 4: "No man cared for mt soul." 

WHAT an amount of pathos is contained in this 
expression ! How sad that any human being- 
should ever have occasion to utter it ! As long as 
any Christianity is left in the world, as long as com- 
mon humanity even has not wholly deserted it ; no 
one, we should think, would be so utterly forlorn, so 
wholly desolate, as to be obliged to say, " No man 
cared for my soul." 

Several winters since, a fleet of fishing schooners 
came to anchor in one of the harbors of Massachusetts 
Bay, just at evening, in anticipation of a storm which 
seemed to be coming on. It came that night, one of 
the most terrible tempests known for many years ; 
and the wind blew so directly into the harbor, that 
the place where they were riding at anchor, usually 
quite safe, soon became very dangerous. One after 
another of the vessels was blown from jts moorings, 
across the harbor, upon the rocks, close to the shore, 



238 "no man cared for my soul." 

but where it was impossible to render them any 
assistance. The inhabitants of the town, crowded 
together on the bank, saw the faces of their neigh- 
bors and friends on board, saw the vessels go to 
pieces, and could do nothing to help them. Yet 
what a terrible night it was to those who stood in 
safety on the land, no less than to those whose lives 
were in peril ! And when, on the morrow, they 
carried to the church the bodies of twenty or thirty 
persons, many of them strangers, the town was filled 
with gloom, and sadness rested on all minds long after. 
If it had been otherwise, they would have been bar- 
barians. Common humanity dictated this sympathy 
and interest in the distress and peril of their fellow- 
creatures. 

Why, then, should there not be equal sympathy, 
equal interest, manifested when souls are in danger, 
— when souls are shipwrecked on the rocks of sin? 
The danger is as great, the consequences more terri- 
ble. Even if we could do nothing to help each other's 
souls, we might show an interest in their condition, 
and grief for their destruction. 

When an alarm of fire is given in the night-time, 
the whole city rouses itself from its slumbers, and 
multitudes hasten to preserve the property of a fel- 
low-citizen from danger. Why should not church- 
bells be rung when his soul is on fire with bad pas- 
sions and hot desires, and Christians run to snatch 
him like a brand from the burning? . How often, when 
a child falls into the water, and is likely to be drowned, 



" NO MAN CARED FOR MY SOUL." 239 

does the impulse of humanity cause a stranger to leap 
in, and risk his own life to save it? If the child's 
soul is likely to be drowned beneath the accumulating 
waves of worldliness and worldly prosperity, ought 
we not to hasten as suddenly to rescue it ? I read 
the other day of a child who was lost in the woods, 
and how the whole population turned out, and spent 
days in looking for him, and was filled with joy when ■ 
he was found. But if he had become lost to God and 
lost to himself, if he had wandered from his Father's 
house, if he had become entangled and bewildered 
in the mazes of sophistry and falsehood, how much 
greater might have been his real peril, and how 
much more ought a Christian community to have 
exerted themselves to save him ! 

If death enters a home, and a fair child, a dear 
wife, an aged and honored parent, is taken, all come 
to mourn with the mourner j all come with softened 
and humbled minds, deeply impressed with the solem- 
nity of the presence of death. But, if souls die, ought 
we not to show a deeper sympathy? Ought we not 
to go and mourn over the morally dead ? Ought we 
not to attend the funeral of innocence, of purity, of 
peace? Ought we not to console, if we can, those 
who are bereaved of the living, and to sympathize 
with the exceeding grief of the mother in whose 
child's heart affection has died, obedience and grati- 
tude lie in their coffin ? Ought we not to sympathize 
with the father whose son has become polluted with 
sin, stained with guilt ? 



240 



<• XO MAN CAEED FOR MY SOUL." 



" They are the dead, the buried, 
They who do still survive ; 
In sin and sense interred, 
The dead, they are alive." 

That the sensual and the worldly should not care 
for the souls of their brethren, might not indeed sur- 
prise* us ; but that Christians should not, is truly won- 
derful. If we feel it a duty to feed the hunger and 
clothe the nakedness of the body ; to visit the friend 
who suffers from physical disease, and constantly in- 
quire after his bodily health ; to congratulate him on 
hfs outward prosperity, and mourn with him over his 
temporal losses, — much more should we endeavor to 
feed moral hunger ; to clothe moral nakedness ; to visit 
those whose souls are diseased ; to congratulate them 
when they have performed an act of integrity, of self- 
denial ; to weep with them when they have gained 
the whole world by means of a baseness. Is it # not 
strange that there should be any in Christian lands 
destitute of this Christian sympathy ? any who can 
truly say, "No man cared for my soul"? 

Yet, if we may anticipate the scenes of the judg- 
ment, how many there may be from our own commu- 
nity who shall stand* up there, and say to us Chris- 
tians, " None of you cared for my soul " ! 

One will perhaps speak thus : " I was the child of 
ignorance and poverty. I grew up in your city in 
the midst of schools ; but there was no one to take 
me to school. I was in the midst of your churches ; 
but none of you ever asked me to enter their doors, 
I was in a home of profanity and intemperance, and 



"no man cared for my soul." 



241 



iniquity ran like water into my ears and eyes every 
day ; but no one came to take me by the hand and 
carry me to Sunday school, or to teach me any lessons 
of virtue. I grew up lawless in will, violent in pas- 
sions, coarse in mind ; I fell into petty vice ; I plunged 
into deeper crime ; I was sent from prison to prison ; 
but no man once asked what moral influences I was 
under while there, or^vhat became of me when I left 
it. 1 No man cared for my soul.' " 

And another may say, " I was the daughter of pious 
and good parents ; but I was obliged to leave my home 
to earn a support. I lived in your homes, and served 
you ; but you never cared for my soul. You never 
asked what was the state of my mind or heart. Seeds 
of vanity took root in them. I became a lover of pleas- 
ure. I went down, step by step, from follies to faults,, 
from faults to sins ; but no one ever cared to ask what 
I was thinking of, what were my aims. And so at last 
I became profligate and vicious, and then you called 
me an abandoned woman ; as though my being aban- 
doned by you was my fault more than yours." 

So, too, may the children of the wealthy, the culti- 
vated, and the refined, stand up in that day, and say 
to their parents, " Why did you care so little for our 
souls? You cared for our body; you devoted your- 
selves with anxious thought to our outward health, 
comfort, ease ; you provided us with all luxuries ; you 
shielded us from all temporal dangers ; you labored, day 
and night, to build up a fortune for us ; you sought 
to establish us in good connections ; you spared no 

16 



242 "no man cared for my soul." 

expense to provide us with accomplishments : but 
you allowed the canker of vanity, the black spot of 
selfishness, to corrode our hearts. You taught us pro- 
prieties before man, not responsibilities toward God ; 
you taught us not to violate the laws of society, not to 
disobey the commands of fashion ; to submit to public 
opinion : but you never taught us to make it our meat 
and drink to do the will of God. You incited us to no 
heroic devotion, no generous emulation ; you awa- 
kened within us no spiritual aspirations or hopes. 
Your lives were consumed with anxiety for our out- 
ward success ; but you never cared for our souls." 
What terrible words will these be for parents to hear 
from their children in the day of account ! 

And how many on that day will complain of the 
Christian Church, whose especial duty it is to care 
for souls, that it neglected that duty ! The slaves will 
rise up, and say, " You sent Bibles to the heathen in 
foreign lands : but you did not teach us, at your own 
doors, to read the gospel ; you did not send mission- 
aries to the heathen in your own land ; no man among 
you told us of the sins which we were committing ; 
no man rebuked our masters for keeping us in a con- 
dition which made falsehood, cruelty, theft, sensuality, 
almost a matter of necessity. No ; but you justified 
the system, and defended it out of the word of 
God." ■ 

And will not the slaveholder have cause to say, 
" You did not care for my soul. You did not warn 
me of the unrighteousness of my conduct. You 



"no man cared for my soul." 243 

t 

said it was wrong in the abstract, but very allow- 
able in the concrete ; wrong as an idea, but right 
enough as a fact. You were watchmen, put to blow 
the trumpet, and to say to the" wicked, 1 Thou shalt 
surely die ; ' yet you acted, instead, the part of the 
serpent, and said, 1 Ye shall not surely die, but shall 
be as gods.' My blood shall be required at your 
hands " ? 

Not only the Church generally, but the ministry in 
particular, will have to hear from many in that day 
the terrible words, "You did not care for our souls." 
How dreadful a thing will it be to the unfaithful min- 
ister to hear from those souls whom it was his espe- 
cial business to watch for, as one who should give 
account, " You did not care for oar spiritual condi- 
tion. You had no love for our souls. You loved to 
fill your church full of hearers, to make proselytes 
to your party, to get the reputation of a powerful 
and eloquent preacher, to acquire influence in the 
church ; but you did not love our souls. You 
preached against scribes and Pharisees among the 
Jews, not against the heart of Phariseeism among 
ourselves : you preached against heretics and sinners 
in other places, not those in the pews before you : 
you advocated reforms after they became popular ; 
but you fled, because you were a hireling, from — 

' The grim wolf, who, with privy paw, 
Daily devours apace, and nothing said ! ' " 

But there will be other voices heard on that day 
uttering expressions of gratitude to those who have 



244 " NO MAN CARED FOE MY SOUL." 

4 

cared for their souls ; for the word spoken in season 
which determined the undecided will in favor of right ; 
for the wise counsel, the pure precepts of love, the 
faithful rebuke, the cordial sympathy, the kind encou- 
ragement, which have turned many to righteousness. 
They will say, " We were without hope, and you gave 
it to us. We were living in godlessness and sin, and 
your affectionate warnings opened our eyes to the 
perils of our condition. You came to us in our doubts 
with cheerful encouragement, in our despair to lead 
us to look to God. You have taught us the true value 
of life ; you have set us in the right way. Others 
have done much for our outward prosperity, and we 
thank them ; but you have made our souls alive, and 
you are the greatest of our benefactors." 

My friends, how easy it is to earn the sweetness 
which belongs to those who have turned many to 
righteousness ! It is not necessary that one should be 
a minister, that he should be learned in theology or 
possess worldly treasures, to do good in this way. 
Silver and gold we may not have ; but such as we have 
we may give in a spiritual influence which will be far 
better than any earthly treasure. Oh that we might 
feel that love of souls which filled the heart of the 
Saviour and of his apostles ; which led Jesus to re- 
joice in the opportunity of teaching the Samaritan 
woman ; which caused Paul to feel that he would 
gladly spend and be spent for the Corinthian converts, 
for that he sought not theirs, but them ; and to say to 
the Thessalonians, " Ye are my glory and my joy, 



" NO MAN CARED FOR MY SOUL." 



245 



my hope, and crown of rejoicing. Yourselves know, 
brethren, that, being affectionately desirous of you, 
we were willing to have imparted unto you, not the 
gospel of God only, but also our own souls, because 
ye were dear to us ; as ye know how we exhorted 
and comforted and charged every one of you, as a 
father doth his children, that ye should walk worthy 
of God " ! 

How infinitely greater, deeper, more permanent, is 
the good which we do to others, when we do good to 
their souls, than that which we can do for them in any 
other way ! If we can bring any one to live in reli- 
ance on God, in submission to his will, in the discharge 
of duty, in the love and service of his neighbor, we 
may be sure that we have done them real good, — 
good which may outlast the Pyramids ; which may fill 
heaven with joy in the most distant ages, and mate- 
rially advance the cause of Christ in the world. I 
remember a distinguished man in the Church, a man 
whose influence was wide and profound, who said 
that his earliest religious impressions came from a 
humble and ignorant woman, who used to exhort him 
earnestly when he was a child, and whose d£ep faith 
he felt and acknowledged. Through him and his writ- 
ings, this poor woman is now moving the world. 

Why, then, do we not have more care for souls ? It 
is partly because the God of this world has blinded 
our hearts ; because, not being spiritual, we do not feel 
the reality of spiritual things ; because we do not feel 
the infinite value of souls, the terrible evil of sin ; 



246 "no man cared for my soul." 

because we have not faith in ourselves, in our own 
power of doing good by any thing we can say ; be- 
cause we have not faith that God will help us to say 
what we ought ; and because, moreover, we some- 
times say as Cain did, " Am I my brother's keeper?" 
though in a different spirit from that in which he said 
it. We doubt whether we have a right to do any 
thing for the spiritual good of our neighbor ; we think 
that religion is a matter between him and God, which 
we cannot interfere with ; we think that he must bear 
his own burden, and we forget that we must help him 
to bear it. We carry independence in religion too far, 
till it becomes mere individualism ; and we neglect 
the great law of love, which binds soul to soul, and 
ordains that no man liveth to himself, and no man 
dieth to himself. 

There is still another feeling which prevents us 
from direct attempts to help each other's soul, — 
the feeling that more can be done indirectly than 
directly ; that we can do more for others by the influ- 
ence of a good life and good example than by direct 
exhortation or advice. There is, indeed, great weight 
in this consideration. Certainly, one way, and per- 
haps the most important way, in which we can help 
the souls of others, is by manifesting good principles, 
living convictions, faithfulness to right, a tender and 
loving humanity in our own lives. I have known 
men, who were never in the habit of giving any direct 
spiritual advice or counsel at all, who Would never 
say a word to those ' about them concerning duty, 



"no man cared for my soul." 247 

but who exercised the profoundest moral influence on 
all that came near them. They rayed moral light 
on them like the sun, and the warm influence of their 
virtues opened the hearts and elevated the souls of 
all near. One of our poets says well, — 

" Nor knowest thou what argument 
Thy life to thy neighbor's creed hath lent." 

Yet I cannot but think that direct influence might 
often with advantage be added to indirect ; and that, 
without urging upon reluctant minds spiritual consid- 
erations, without prematurely pulling open the folded 
bud of the spiritual life, without violating the sacred 
retirement and holy privacy of the interior soul, we 
may yet, if we are watchful, find many opportunities 
of saying words of direct counsel, which shall come 
at the right time, shall fall into the right place, and be 
like seed, to bear thirty, fifty, and a hundred fold. 
There are many, more than I suppose we think of, 
who are waiting and wishing to be spoken to upon 
such themes as these. There are many more, who, 
though now immersed in worldliness, feel no satisfac- 
tion therein, and would gladly be called up to a 
higher mode of life by the. tender, friendly, and ele- 
vating voice which should speak to the deepest places 
of the heart and mind. 

There are, then, these ways in which we can mani- 
fest our care of souls: By shedding a good influence 
upon them from our own life ; by studying their state, 
and trying to find fit opportunities of uttering words 
of caution or encouragement, or of — 

" Soft rebuke in blessings ended ; " 



248 "no man cared foe my soul." 

and finally by prayer. For we can never approach 
God more acceptably, or with a greater certainty of 
having our prayers answered, than when we are pray- 
ing for the soul's good of our brethren. We must be 
praying then in the spirit of Christ. We may then 
lean on the promise, " If ye abide in me, and my words 
abide in you, ye shall ask what ye will, and it shall be 
done for you.' 7 No prayer can go up more acceptable 
to God from any human heart than that which asks 
that the loved one may be preserved from some in- 
snaring temptation, from the bewildering sophistry of 
worldliness, from the snares of error ; which asks not 
outward good, but inward life, for those most dear ; 
which prays that they may hold fast their integrity, 
and enter into the blessed rest of the children of God. 
When Augustine was about to go to Italy, his mother 
Monica, a pious Christian, prayed that he might be 
prevented, as she feared the temptations of Rome. 
But he went, and was converted to Christianity at 
Milan by Ambrose. " Thou, 0 my God ! " says he, 
" didst give her not what she asked then, but, by re- 
fusing that, didst give what she was always asking." 
The prayer of the righteous for the souls of others 
must be at last effectual. 

But though Christians are not faithful to this duty, 
though their love grows cold, and though many are 
obliged to say, " No man cares for my soul/' yet there 
is One who always cares for the souls of all his chil- 
dren. God cares for souls evermore. All souls are 
his, and he will not let them go without many an 
effort to dr&w them up to himself. He sends many 



"no man cared for my soul." 249 

blessed influences, he sends many holy providences, 
ever to those who are neglected and forsaken by man. 
He does not leave himself without a witness in the 
most abandoned heart. Multitudes are abandoned 
of man, but none abandoned of God. If they do not 
like to retain him in their thoughts, he leaves them to 
themselves ; but he does not forget nor forsake them. 
His love pursues, surrounds, and calls after them. 
He sees the first dawning light in their heart ; he sees 
them when yet a great way off. If we are God's 
children, if we are Christ's disciples, we also should 
love the souls of all ; for to God and to Christ all 
souls are dear. 



XIX. 



LITE AND THE EESUEEECTION. 
(An Easter Sermon.) 
John xi. 25, 26: "I am the resurrection and the life. He 

THAT BELIEVETH IN ME, THOUGH HE WERE DEAD, YET SHALL 
HE LIVE ; AND WHOSOEVER LIVETH AND BELIEVETH IN ME 
SHALL NEVER DIE." 

1 Pet. i. 3: "Blessed be the God and Father op our Lord 
Jesus Christ, which, according to his abundant mercy, 
hath begotten us again unto a living hope by the 
resurrection of jesus christ prom the dead." 

Phil. iii. 10-12: "That I may know him, and the power op 

HIS RESURRECTION, AND THE FELLOWSHIP OF HIS SUFFERINGS, 
BEING MADE CONFORMABLE UNTO HIS DEATH ; IF BY ANY 
MEANS I MIGHT ATTAIN UNTO THE RESURRECTION OF THE 
DEAD ; • NOT AS THOUGH I HAD ALREADY ATTAINED, EITHER 
WERE ALREADY PERFECT." 

Rom. vi. 3-8: "Know ye not that so many of us as were 
baptized into jesus christ were baptized into his death ? 
Therefore we are buried with him by baptism into 
death ; that like as christ was raised up from the dead 
by the glory of the eather, even so we also should 
walk in newness of life. eor, if we have been planted 
together in the likeness of his death, we shall be 
also in the likeness of his resurrection. . . . now, if we 
be dead with christ, we believe that we shall also 
live with him." 

1 Cor. xv. 49 : " As we have borne the image of the earthy, 

WE SHALL ALSO BEAR THE IMAGE OF THE HEAVENLY." 

THAT God has placed in man an instinctive con- 
sciousness of his immortality, is, I think, very- 
evident. We call it an instinct, because we can find 



LIFE AND THE RESURRECTION. 



251 



no better word for it ; but man's instincts differ from 
those of the animals in several ways. The instincts 
of animals are invariable, universal, and unchange- 
able, or nearly so. Those of men are different in 
degree in different persons ; are modified and changed 
by circumstances in each man ; and are susceptible 
of modification, growth, and improvement. 

The instincts of dogs, foxes, and vipers, were the 
same in the days of ./Esop that they are now; the 
eagle fed its young in the time of Isaiah very much 
as at the present day; the community of bees, of 
beavers, and of ants, was governed and arranged 
according to the same constitution and code of laws 
in the nineteenth century before Christ as in the 
nineteenth century after him. Man, too, has a social 
instinct, which causes him always to organize a so- 
ciety, and to come into some kind of community. He 
does this instinctively and necessarily ; but how dif- 
ferent are his societies, and modes of organizing them! 
They were patriarchal among the Jews, arranged 
in families ; hierarchal among the Egyptians, formed 
according to priestly arrangements and religious 
laws. Society took the form of clans in Scotland ; 
of tribes among the Indians ; of feudal societies, or 
a military system, in the middle ages ; of castes and 
fixed occupations in India ; and, in modern Europe 
and America, of perfect liberty, or the absence of all 
organization. Yet through all this variety remains 
the same instinct of society ; the disposition to come 
together and work together in clans, families, castes, 



252 



LIFE AND THE RESURRECTION. 



towns, corporations, armies, or churches. If men 
wish to fight, they unite in an army ; if they wish to 
make cotton, they unite in a corporation; if they 
wish to pray, they unite in a church ; if they wish to 
amuse themselves, they unite in a club or picnic or 
ball-room ; if they wish to study, they unite in a 
school or a college. Who does not see here an irre- 
sistible instinct of society existing in man, yet 
modified in a thousand ways by circumstances, by 
choice, or by reason ? 

We call that tendency, then, an instinct in man- 
kind, which causes it continually to think, feel, and 
act in certain ways. These instincts are very nume- 
rous. There are religious instincts, moral instincts, 
social instincts, warlike instincts ; the instinct of con- 
struction, of art, of science, of commerce, of accumu- 
lation. An instinctive tendency is that which is to 
be found more or less developed in every one, and 
which acts in every one at first independently of rea- 
son and choice. 

Now, there is in man an instinctive feeling of 
immortality. This shows itself, exactly as all the 
other instincts show themselves. Men, in all ages, 
countries, nations,* races, have believed in a future 
life ; but they have had very different notions about 
the future life. The Egyptians, long before Moses, 
believed fully in a future life, into which men were 
admitted after a judgment by Osiris. Pythagoras, 
and many ancient religions, taught transmigration; 
the Greeks held to the Elysian Fields and Tartarus. 



LIFE AND THE RESURRECTION. 



253 



The Chinese, Hindoos, Buddhists, ancient Persians, 
Scandinavians, North - American Indians, Mexicans, 
Peruvians, all had an instinctive belief in immortal- 
ity, though they took a hundred different views as 
to its nature. This, I think, proves the existence, in 
man, of an instinct of immortality ; for it has all the 
attributes of an instinct. It is universal, — appear- 
ing in all races and times. It is involuntary, — 
coming up of itself before any instruction. It is con- 
stant, — never disappearing from human consciousness, 
however much it may be modified therein. It is ac- 
tive and operative, — showing itself as a feeling, a 
longing after immortality ; as a belief in some kind of 
immortality ; and an action leading to certain religious 
practices in relation to immortality. 

Moreover, every one is conscious of this instinct in 
himself. We all, in our desire and thought, reach 
forward beyond death ; we imagine ourselves as 
present in this world after we die, and as always 
existing somewhere. It is almost impossible to realize 
s the end of our own consciousness. If we try to 
imagine ourselves as annihilated, we also imagine 
ourselves as looking on, and seeing ourselves annihi- 
lated. 

This instinct of immortality may, indeed, be dor- 
mant in man. It is so as long as the lower nature is 
supreme. While we live from the body, we die, and 
have no sense of immortal life : when we live from 
the spirit, we are full of immortality, and death is ' 
abolished. Hence Paul says, " In Adam we die, in 



254 



LIFE AND THE RESURRECTION. 



Christ we are made alive ; " because Christ rouses 
the immortal part of our nature. The Adam within 
us has no faith in immortality, no sense of a higher 
life. It is not until it is quickened by the spirit, not 
till the spirit is alive, that it believes in life. One 
part of our nature has no instinct of immortality ; 
and those in whom that part is supreme know no- 
thing in their consciousness of any permanent and 
advancing life : their life holds by the body, not by 
the spirit. But those in whom spirit is supreme, 
have an instinctive sense of permanent being : their 
life is the guaranty of its own perpetuity. They 
need no argument to convince them of immortality : 
the law of life within them is its own argument. 

This instinct of immortality in man has been made, 
by all thinkers from the time of Plato, an argument 
for a belief in immortality.* 



* In a recent number, however, of the "Atlantic Magazine," a 
writer has denied the force of this argument, in a somewhat flippant 
way. This is the writer known by the title of the " Country Par- 
son ; " and he understands the argument to be, that man wishes for 
immortality, and consequently is immortal. This argument he easily 
refutes, and calls it rubbish. Now, when all great thinkers, from Plato 
to Addison inclusive, have considered an argument sound which this 
writer calls rubbish, saying that he " cannot understand how any one 
ever regarded it as having the smallest force," it is well to recall the 
maxim of Coleridge : " Until I can understand the ignorance of Plato, 
I will conclude myself ignorant of his understanding." This writer 
does not understand the argument. The argument is not, that, because 
we wish for a thing, we shall certainly have it ; but it is this : " When- 
ever God places an instinctive tendency in his creatures, universal, 
constant, permanent, he provides something which corresponds, in 
reality and fact, to that tendency." For example : He gives to certain 



LIFE AND THE RESURRECTION. 



255 



I do not think it does much good to argue with 
those in whom the instinct of immortality has not 
been awakened. Two men were once arguing about 
immortality ; Mr. A trying to convince Mr. B that 
there was such a thing, and Mr. B not being able to 
believe it. At last, after a long conversation, Mr. B 
took his hat, and departed. Mr. A sat in his chair, 



birds the instinct of migration. Some of the duck and geese family go 
north as far as the shores of Hudson's Bay, and to the fifty -third degree 
of north latitude, every autumn, and return to the Middle and Southern 
States every spring. Accordingly, the particular grasses and berries 
needed by these birds grow in that region. The horse has an in- 
stinct for grass, and God makes grass for hiin to eat. Animals, as 
soon as they are born, begin to exercise these instincts, and find 
always provision made for them. So man, having a social instinct, 
finds opportunities for society ; having an instinct for construction, 
finds himself provided with that most wonderful and comprehensive 
chest of tools, — a hand; having an instinct of observation, has the 
portable telescope and microscope called an eye. The argument, 
therefore, is, that, an instinctive longing for immortality having been 
given, immortality is provided. This,- it may be observed, is quite a 
different argument from what the modern critic imagines it to be. 
Suppose, when the flock of geese is preparing itself to quit its winter 
residence in North Carolina, and collects in the swamps to make its 
arrangements for moving to its summer villa on Hudson's Bay, a 
young goose, who had never yet made the journey, should fly up on a 
stump, and make a speech to show that they had no reason for 
believing there was any such place as the North, with its grass and 
berries ; and suppose the geese should reply, that, since an instinct to 
migrate North had been given them by God, they might assume that 
God had provided a North for them to go to. That would be Plato's 
argument, as Plato made it. And if the young goose should reply, 
that, because they ivished for a thing, it was no reason for believing 
it, since he had often wished for a berry, and had not found it, 
that would be the argument of the "Country Parson," — unable to 
distinguish between a transient wish for a particular fact, and a per- 
manent instinct tending toward a distant state or condition. 



256 LIFE AND THE RESURRECTION. 

thinking, and at last fell asleep. He dreamed he was 
walking in the Mammoth Cave, stumbling along 
through its many avenues and intricate recesses, 
till he came to the river. Here two little fishes 
put up their heads, and said, " Mr. A, Mr. A, do you 
really believe there is such a thing as sunlight ? We 
hear those who go through this cave talking about 
sunlight ; but we do not believe in it." So he stopped, 
and argued with them, quoted all authorities on op- 
tics, expounded to them the doctrines of refraction 
and reflection, referred to Sir Isaac Newton, and even 
pulled a prism from his pocket to explain the prisma- 
tic rays. " Why/ 7 said he, " without light, how could 
we do any thing ? how read, how work, how play, how 
distinguish the colors and forms of flowers ? and of 
what use would our eyes be ? " — " We have not got 
any eyes/ 7 said the two little fishes ; and so, to be 
sure, it. was. They had no eyes ! No use arguing 
with them about light, so long as they had no eyes. 
There are many things which we believe, not because 
of any argument, but by the exercise of the faculty 
appropriate to the thing. The affectionate man be- 
lieves in love, the generous man in generosity, the 
religious man in God, the musician in music. The 
man with a large organ of marvellousness easily be- 
lieves in spirits and in miracles. The man with a 
large organ of hope easily believes in the future life. 
Cultivate the musical organ, and you become con- 
vinced of the reality of music. Cultivate the organs 
of faith and hope and you see the reality of a future 



LIFE AND THE RESURRECTION. 



257 



life. It becomes a part of your own existence ; some- 
thing.that no sceptical argument can touch. 

So much for immortality ; but what is the resur- 
rection? It is the human being rising up, at death, 
into a higher state. The doctrine of the resurrec- 
tion teaches that the state after death is higher than 
the present state ; that it is a rising-up of all souls into 
a higher life than this. It is the rising of all, good 
and bad, — the good rising into life ; the bad rising 
into judgment, or to the sight of truth. That all rise,, 
appears from the passage which makes life in Christ 
exactly equal in extent to death in Adam. " As in 
Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made 
alive." That the resurrection is of the wicked as 
well as of the good, appears from the passage which 
declares that " the hour cometh in which all that are 
in their graves shall hear the voice of the Son of 
man, and come forth, — they that have done good, to 
the resurrection of life ; and they that have done evil, 
to the resurrection of damnation.'' That is, speaking 
strictly, to the resurrection of judgment* Though 



* " Kesurrection of damnation" (John v. 29), avaaraaw Kptaeug, — 
the rising-up for judgment. The word npioig, translated " damnation " 
here in our Bible, occurs forty-eight times in the New Testament. 

It is translated by "damnation" three times, by "condemnation " 
twice, by "accusation" twi^e, by "judgment" forty-one times. Wher- 
ever the word is translated "damnation," it might be rendered "judg- 
ment," and the sense would be good; but where it is translated 
"judgment," if we should change it to "damnation," it would make 
nonsense. 

For example : In the passage, " He hath committed all judgment 
unto the Son," we could hardly say, " He hath committed all damnation 

17 



258 



LIFE AND THE EESUEEECTION. 



this judgment on the soul, which shows to it its sin, 
is a source of suffering, it is nevertheless an ascent to 
a higher state, a rising-up of the soul. This is the 
resurrection. It is not merely rising again, but it is 
rising up. It is not simply a return to life, but it 
is an ascent to a higher life. Christ himself is the 
resurrection, because he is this higher life of the souh 
He is the life-giving Spirit. It is because all have 
affinity with him that all rise. In every man there is 
spirit as well as soul ; and the spirit is the buoyant 
principle which carries us up to a higher state. 

It will be seen that I by no means accept the 
common idea of the resurrection. I by no means 
regard it as merely a return to life. It is not rising 
again : it is rising up. The doctrine of the resurrec- 
tion is, that the future life is an advance upon the 
present, — a higher state. 

With this view of the resurrection, and omitting, 
for the present, all reference to the resurrection of 
the body, let us look at one particular passage to see 
if we can understand its statements. This passage is 
1 Cor. xv. 12-23, and contains the famous discussion 
■of the resurrection. 



unto the Son." In the passage, — " the weightier matters of the law, 
judgment, mercy, and faith," — it would not do to say, " Ye have omit- 
ted damnation, mercy, and faith." But where it is declared, that he 
who blasphemes the Holy Ghost " is in danger of eternal damnation," 
it would do perfectly well to say, "Is in danger of eternal judg- 
ment." 

The radical meaning of the word is unquestionably "judgment ; " 
and this meaning we may give wherever it makes good sense. 



LIFE AND THE RESURRECTION. 



259 



Some persons among the Corinthians said that 
there was no resurrection of the dead. Who were 
they? and what did they deny? Did they deny a 
future life altogether? This is impossible. It is 
impossible to suppose that any members of the 
Christian Church in that age could have held such a 
doctrine as this. With what motive could any have 
joined the Church of Christ, in the face of persecu- 
tion, if they did not believe in a future life? They 
were not materialists, but idealists. They maintained, 
probably, like Hymeneus and Philetus, that the res- 
urrection is past already. They believed in a future 
life, but in no future universal rising-up into a higher 
state. Perhaps they held that ideal opinion common 
to so many countries, and in so many ages, of the 
absorption of the soul in God. They believed in an 
immortality of the soul ; for that was a common belief 
in Greece : but they did not believe in the rising-up 
of the whole man, soul and body, into a higher life. 

Paul maintains, in opposition to this doubt, that 
there is a resurrection of all the dead ; and, first, 
from the consequences of the opposite cpinion. 

If there be no resurrection, the first consequence 
is, that Christ has not risen. Christ has not gone up 
to a higher degree of power, into a higher state of 
life, nearer to God. Christ is living somewhere in 
the realm of departed souls ; but we know not where, 
nor how. He is not near to us ; he has no power to 
help us ; and, if this is so, our faith is vain. It is 
empty of all substance. It is as true as ever; but it 



260 



LIFE AND THE RESURRECTION. 



has no power, no life, no conquering energy. The 
gospel was as true as ever when Christ hung on the 
cross ; it was as true as ever when he lay in the tomb. 
If Christ were no more, the Sermon on the Mount 
would still be true. It would still be our duty to love 
our neighbor as ourselves. The parable of the Pro- 
digal Son would be for ever true ; but it would be 
truth like that of Plato or Seneca, — abstract truth. 
When Christ rose, he added power to truth. It was 
triumphant truth. He had conquered his foes. He 
was still present with his disciples, seen by them in 
his risen state. He was with them, ready to help 
them from that higher state. Now their faith is not 
empty, but filled with living courage and hope. They 
can do all things now ; for Christ strengthens them. 
If they die, they rise up to be with him. But if this 
is all a mistake, and there be no such law of progress 
at all, then there is no hope for us to conquer our sins ; 
then those who have fallen asleep in Christ have not 
gone up to be with him, living and advancing souls, 
but have disappeared into the inane realm of Hades. 
Then our great hope for ourselves and for humanity 
is idle. Our preaching of the gospel, and our labors 
in its behalf, are a dream. Our expectations are an 
illusion ; and, if we are thus disappointed, we are, of 
all men, the most miserable. 

You may say, " Oh, no ! Paul was not the most 
miserable of all men ; for he had the satisfaction of 
doing his duty. Virtue is its own reward. He had 
the peace which passes understanding. He was 



LIFE AND THE RESURRECTION. 



261 



happy in himself. He had received a hundred-fold 
more in the present time. He himself said, that 
' godliness has the promise of the life which now is, 
as well as that which is to come.' Why then say, 1 If 
in this life only we have hope in Christ, we are of all 
men most miserable ? ' " 

Well ; some men may support themselves in this 
way, and take this comfort ; but Paul could not. His 
object was not self-culture, not to save his own soul, 
not to b'e the stoical wise man, satisfied in his own 
virtue. Paul wished to save the world ; to do all 
things through Christ, who strengthened him. He 
was by no means satisfied with any thing less than 
helping Christ to redeem the world. He did not wish 
to be happy, or to save his own soul ; but he was will- 
ing even to be banished from the presence of Christ, 
if he could thereby save the souls of his brethren. 
Therefore he would be, of all men, the most misera- 
ble, if that great hope for the world was disap- 
pointed. 

" But now is Christ risen from the dead, and be- 
come the first-fruits of them that slept." 

The first-fruits, says Robertson, were offered to 
God, as a sign that the whole harvest belonged to 
him, Christ therefore, in rising, shows that all are 
to rise, that all are to ascend into a higher state of 
beiug. It will be a state in which all move forward. 
All may not be happier or better, but all will be high- 
er. All rise, — some to life, some to judgment. Then 
Paul goes on to say why they rise, by what law, and by 



262 



LIFE AND THE RESURRECTION. 



what power. " As in Adam all die ; even so in Christ 
shall all be made alive." In every mam according to 
Paul's view, is the natural soul, or the Adam, subject 
to death ; and in every man there is also spirit, often 
dormant, but capable of being quickened into life by 
the power of divine truth. This living spirit in us 
is Christ within us. When the truth is accepted by 
the soul, the soul is rescued from death, and made 
alive. All die in Adam. That is, the natural man, or 
the man in whom the finite soul is supreme, does not 
see spiritual things ; has, therefore, no sense of immor- 
tality ; sees only this life. This Adam is in all of us, 
this first Adam, which was only made a living soul ; 
made natural, not spiritual ; made for space and time. 
When this part of our nature is supreme, we may 
believe in immortality, but we do not realize it ; we 
are dead while we live. But when the spirit is 
roused by the divine truth which is in Christ, 
whether we believe in immortality or not, we have a* 
foretaste of it. Immortality has begun within us. 
The spirit being alive, the life descends into the soul, 
and that is full of life. We walk in newness of life. 
We are planted together in the likeness of Christ's 
resurrection. We are dead to sin, but alive to God. 
The law of the spirit of life in Christ Jesus has made us 
free from the law of sin and death : for to be spiritu- 
ally-minded is life ; and the spirit is life, because of 
righteousness. So Christ says that he is Eesurrection 
and Life, — not meaning, certainly, that he brings 
dead people to life again, or that he makes new bodies 



LIFE AND THE RESURRECTION. 



263 



for them ; but that he is a life-giving spirit to the 
soul. 

This passage, therefore, declares, that, in the Adam 
part of our nature, we die ; but, in the Christ part of 
our nature, we have life. Now, this life is not mere 
existence : it is activity and progress. The signs of 
life are sensibility, activity, growth, intelligent con- 
sciousness, rational will. A stone does not live : but 
a plant lives ; for the plant acts and re-acts on Nature, 
can grow, can bear fruit. The dog has more of life : 
he can feel, think, and will. But the man has more : 
for he can rise out of soul into spirit ; can see ideal 
truth ; can devote himself to a rational purpose ; can 
have, not merely attachment, but affection ; can be 
tormented with his sins ; can feel the pardoning love 
of God ; can love abstract truth and infinite beauty ; 
is capable of endless progress ; can worship the in- 
visible. Now, this, and this only, is real life ; and 
'this life excludes the thought of death, and the fear 
of it. 

We see in this passage the truth that there is in 
the doctrine of universal salvation. 

Universalism is not true if it teaches that there is " 
no distinction after death between good men and 
bad; if it says that all after death go into a state 
of happiness, or asserts that all judgment and retri- 
bution take place in the present life. For the mere 
act of dying does not change a bad man into a good 
one ; nor will 'any one be compelled to be happy or 
to be good hereafter, against his will. A future judg- 



264 



LIFE AND THE RESURRECTION. 



ment is necessary, because, in this life, men deceive 
themselves, resist the truth, and refuse to see it ; 
and, wherever there is judgment, there is suffering. 
In these points, therefore, some forms of Universalism 
are not true. 

But I think that the Apostle Paul here plainly asserts 
that the life in Christ is co-extensive with the death 
in Adam. Now, as all men, without exception, die in 
Adam ; so all men, without exception, must be made 
alive in Christ. It makes no difference whether death 
be understood here as physical death or as spiritual 
death. In either case, it includes all human beings ) 
for all human beings are mortal, and all human beings 
commit sin. It therefore follows that all human 
beings shall be made alive ; and not only that, but 
that they shall be alive in Christ. But life in 
Christ is salvation from sin and all evil. When 
Christ, who is our life, shall appear, we shall appear 
with him in glory. The spirit of life in Christ Jesus 
makes us free from the law of sin and death. To live 
in Christ is necessarily salvation. Therefore the 
apostle asserts here, that all human beings shall ulti- 
mately be saved. Ultimately ; for he takes care 
immediately to say, that every man is to be made 
alive " in his own order." Christ rises first into a 
higher state, as the first-fruits; then those who 
belong to him " at his coming; " that is, those who, 
when he is manifested to them, accept him, showing 
that their hearts are right, and that they can receive 
the immortal Word, which shall fill them with the 



LIFE AND THE RESURRECTION. 



265 



higher life of God. Paul then goes on to speak of 
the end, of the great consummation, the fulfilment 
of the Messianic reign and work, when all souls shall 
be brought to God ; when no more mediation shall be 
necessary ; when all shall believe and accept the truth, 
and God be all in all. 

The main point in the Christian doctrine of the 
resurrection is, that it is a higher life for all. All 
who have borne the image of the earthy are to bear 
the image of the heavenly. All who die in Adam are 
to be made alive in Christ. The next life is higher 
than this in all ways, — physically, mentally, morally, 
spiritually. There will be more of thought, love, and 
action ; more of inward life, more of outward activity. 
It is true that there may be many lower down in the 
scale of being after they get there than some are in 
this world. Some attain to a better resurrection 
in this life than others do in the next. Still, Chris- 
tianity teaches that the human race moves up, after 
death, to a higher level. So, in this world, we are no 
doubt on a higher level than animals ; but I know 
some horses and dogs which are much better behaved, 
more intelligent, refined, and moral beings, than some 
men. Still, the man is the higher animal. The Apos- 
tle Paul, though he did not think he had attained to 
the resurrection of the dead or was perfect, had 
attained to it far more than most of us will, long 
after we have entered the higher state. 

The doctrine of the resurrection, therefore, is not 



266 LIFE AND THE RESURRECTION. 



merely that we continue to exist after death : it is that 
we ascend to a higher condition of being. This is 
the faith of Christianity ; this is what Christianity 
has always taught, and induced men to believe. The 
teaching of the Church has been partial, not univer- 
sal ; dogmatic, not scientific ; and so has repelled a 
great many. To many, the resurrection is as repul- 
sive an idea now as it was to the Athenians and 
Corinthians, because it seems not a grand rational 
conviction, but a narrow theological dogma. It was 
a stumbling-block to the Athenians. " When they 
heard of the resurrection of the dead, some mocked." 
It was a stumbling-block to the Corinthians ; for, even 
in the Christian Church at Corinth, there were some 
who said there was " no resurrection of the dead." 
They did not deny immortality ; they were not mate- 
rialists, — they were idealists: but they denied the 
resurrection. 

But the highest power of the resurrection of Jesus 
is, that it destroys the sense of weakness, doubt, un- 
worthiness, sinfulness, which belongs to us all, and 
gives us instead courage and hope. It does for us 
what it did for the apostles : it brings us near to God, 
and so gives us power in our own souls. Therefore 
it is said that Christ was " raised for our justifica- 
tion." The theologian is astonished at this saying. 
He thinks that we are justified by Christ's death. So 
we are, but by his resurrection too. Scripture is 
more liberal in its theology than we are. It is like 
Nature : it can reach the same end by different 



LIFE AND THE RESURRECTION. 



2GT 



methods. If Nature sees the air full of miasma, it 
can purify it by electricity, — sending lightning and 
thunder to shake it through and through, and rain to 
wash it clean : or it can do the same thing by freezing 
cold ; one sharp frost will drive away all seeds of 
disease and death. 

So we are justified by Christ's death. For in that 
holy hour of ineffable, unspeakable sorrow, in that 
shame to which he came down for us, he touches all 
hearts. We are drawn to him by his patient love, 
and our sins pass away. The ice which covered our 
hearts like a thick breastplate melts under these 
continuous showers of sorrow, and we feel ourselves 
drawn to God by the death of his Son. But also 
we are drawn to God by the ascended Christ ; Christ 
living now above ; Christ working now for the world ; 
Christ glorified, and surrounded by a great company 
of loving, laboring men and angels. This also fills 
us with a desire to leave our sins, and join the great 
and holy company whose names are written in his 
book. Dark, driving rains melt the ice ; warm, glori- 
ous, sunny days melt it also. 

Persons sometimes have a fear lest the friends who 
have gone before them may have gone on away from 
them ; that progress may have removed them too far ; 
that they will never be able to rise to their commu- 
nion. But this is to forget, that, while progress tends 
to separate, love tends to unite again. The balance 
of the spiritual universe is maintained by these two 
antagonistic forces, just as the balance of the material 



268 



LIFE AND THE EESUERECTION. 



universe is preserved by attraction on the one side, 
and the centrifugal force on the other. Does not a 
parent love a child, though the parent knows more, 
and is higher? Did not Christ love his disciples? 
When he went away, did not he say that he went to 
return again? It is the work of the highest angels 
to help the lowliest sinners ; and love always tends to 
bring together extremes and opposites, in order that 
progress may not pull the universe of souls apart. 
Our angels do not love us less because they have gone 
into heaven : they love us more. They do not forget 
us because they have ascended to God: they remem- 
ber us more. The higher they go up, the lowlier 
they lean down; for every acquisition, attainment, and 
elevation in God's heaven is used for the good of 
those who most need help, light, and deliverance. 

In thinking of the other world, we sometimes seem 
to consider it impossible that the myriads of human 
beings who pass into it from all lands, races, nations ; 
of all habits, tastes, characters, opinions, ages ; infants 
and old men, saints and pirates ; thousands going at 
once from a field of battle, — should be provided, each 
with his own home, sphere, surroundings ; that a suit- 
able place should be got ready beforehand to receive 
every one of them. But why should that be more 
strange than that the same provision has been made 
in this world ; that the tens of thousands who are 
born daily are born each into a home, on the bosom 
of a mother, with fostering care and patient love 
around him ? Each comes wholly helpless ; each is 



LIFE AND THE RESURRECTION. 



269 



helped, fed, clothed, taught, by provided love. Not 
only so, but of the millions of insects, reptiles, ani- 
mals, fishes, daily arriving, each one comes to find its 
blade of grass, its leaf, made ready for it ; each with 
the climate, the home, the food it needs. l i In my 
Father's house are many mansions : if it were not so, 
I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for 
you." It may be part of the occupation of angels 
and higher spirits to prepare suitable circumstances- 
for those who are to come after. 

We must not think of the other world as lonely, 
empty, or monotonous. It is more full, rich, varied, 
than this ; it has a richer nature, more divine scenery, 
more precious society, more life, growth, thought, 
action, love, than this world. If it is a higher world, 
it must be more full, rich, and beautiful. 

The resurrection of Christ also teaches us that 
those who ascend to God continue the same persons 
they were before, — that they have the same charac- 
ter, only elevated ; the same individual essence, only 
purified; the same sweetness which we loved, only 
sweeter; the same beauty which seemed to us so 
enchanting, only more beautiful still. They are, as 
Bryant says, — 

"Lovelier in heaven's sweet climate, yet the same." 

For the poets are the prophets still, and often tell us 
the truth by an inspiration more orthodox than that 
of the theologians. No true poet ever for a moment 
doubted that he should know his friend hereafter, 



270 



LIFE AND THE EESUERECTION. 



though theologians may sometimes doubt it ; for the 
heart which is illuminated by inspired thought can 
read beforehand the immortal and infinite quality in 
the soul, — that which is to make the future angel. 
When poets describe their friend, it seems extrava- 
gance to a prosaic nature ; but it is the ideal nature 
of their friend they see and know, — the future angel 
in the present mortal. 

When Whittier describes the young girl who is 
gone, he describes her as she inwardly was before 
she went, as she radiantly is now: — 

" As pure and sweet her fair brow seemed, 
Eternal as the sky ; 
And like the brook's low song her voice, — 
A sound which could not die. 

And half we deemed she needed not 

The changing of her sphere 
To give to heaven a shining one 

Who walked an angel here. 

The blessing of her quiet life 

Tell on us like the dew ; 
And good thoughts, where her footsteps pressed, 

Like fairy blossoms grew. 

The measure of a blessed hymn, 

To which our hearts could move ; 
The breathing of an inward psalm, 

A canticle of love/' 

Jesus rose, and continued the same Jesus as before. 
He continues the same Jesus still. Our hearts burn 
within us as he talks to us on this Easter morning, as 
on that first Easter when the two disciples walked 

"7 



LIFE AND THE RESURRECTION. 



271 



over the bare hills of Judaea on their way to Em- 
maus. Jesus has ascended up higher and higher ; 
but he is the same tender friend, the same forgiving 
and merciful master, the same perfect harmony of 
awful truth and sweetest affection, before whom the 
Pharisee trembled, and to whom the little children 
crept. He is still the same who said to the hard 
bigots, " Ye serpents, ye generation of vipers ! " and to 
the poor, trembling, sinful woman, " Neither do I con- 
demn thee : go, and sin no more." 

And because Jesus in the resurrection is the same, 
therefore all those who surround him are the same 
as they were before. " We shall be like him ; for 
we shall see him as he is." He was not unclothed, 
but clothed upon, — his mortality swallowed up of 
life. So shall it be with our friends ; so, too, with 
ourselves. 

Christ makes the soul alive ; but it is not a belief 
in the historical Christ which makes the soul alive, 
but in the Christ formed within us. I can conceive 
of one full of doubts, scepticism, and unbelief in 
regard to the historic Christ, but with a soul full of 
spiritual life. If a man loves God, and trusts in him ; 
if he believes in spirit more than in matter ; if he 
believes in justice, truth, and right ; if he loves his 
brother, and helps his brother in this world, — then, 
whether he knows it or not, he belongs to Jesus, 
and he really believes in him. I do not mean to 
say that the historic faith is unimportant ; quite the 
contrary : but, though important, it is not essential. 



272 



LIFE AND THE RESURRECTION. 



It belongs to theology : it does not belong to religion. 
It belongs to the intellect, not to the heart. It is a 
matter of correct thinking, not necessarily a matter 
of correct living. 

Of the tens of thousands of sweet and holy souls 
which pass every year into the other world, how 
many have any clear or exact belief concerning the 
historic Christ? Of the thousands of Christians who 
pass away out of every church, how many know 
much, even about their own creed ? But they believe 
that God, the infinite and unseen, is. good; and they 
reverence him. • They know that Christ is to them, 
somehow, a revelation of God as Father and Friend ; 
and they believe that. They know that this life is 
sweeter and more heavenly in proportion as we put 
into it more of generosity, self-forgetfulness, and love. 
They feel very humbly that they do not do what they 
ought ; but they try to do something for others. And 
so, not knowing it, they are already risen with Christ 
(as Paul says), and are seeking the things above. 
Christ is already their resurrection and life : and we 
feel concerning them, that they cannot die ; that out- 
ward death is a mere transition for them to higher 
worlds. 

No man fears death, or believes in death, when his 
soul is alive. When we are full of any lofty convic- 
tion, any great purpose, any self-for getting love, death 
disappears : it ceases to be any thing. It is no king 
of terrors to us, except when we are in a low and 
selfish state. When we rise out of that with Christ, 



LIFE AND THE RESURRECTION. 



273 



he is our resurrection, and we feel that we cannot 
die. 

See that old man, whose life has been an earnest 
seeking after truth, an earnest striving to do good. 
He has, from time to time, caught a glimpse of great 
realities. Too honest to profess more than he is cer- 
tain of, he has never had a very long creed : but he has 
always believed in goodness ; he has always believed 
in honesty and truth ; he has always been ready to 
help the helpless, and comfort the forlorn. He did 
not consider whether the poor man, who needed his 
help, was very good or not : he needed his help ; so 
he tried to help him. He did not ask whether he was 
white or black or yellow or red ; a foreigner or an 
American : he tried to help him. He did not exclude 
him from his sympathy because he was a negro, be- 
cause he was an Irishman, because he was a Roman 
Catholic, or because he was an Atheist. If God could 
bear with him, he could. So, now, in the calm even- 
ing of life, he looks out on the sweet, sunny land- 
scape before his door, and his heart brims over with 
God's love. He says to himself, " How good God has 
been to me ! " He thinks of his boyhood, its hopes 
and hilarity. He sees the field where he played ; 
where he rode the horse with a halter, without sad- 
dle ; the wood where he went to get nuts ; the pond 
where he fished and paddled in the water. All the 
kindly influences of Nature, he perceives, taught him ; 
and all were God's messengers to his intellect and 
heart. He remembers the dawning affections of his 

18 



274 



LIFE AND THE RESURRECTION. 



soul, the sweet love-story of his youth, the struggles 
and sorrows of his manhood. He thinks of the hour 
when God gave him a kindred heart to be his com- 
panion and friend in life, and how his heart was 
opened and purified by that affection ; and he thinks 
of the hour when he stood by the open grave, looked 
his last look at that calm, serene face, and saw all 
heaven opened, and immortality born out of death. 
So he sees God in every thing, and so he tranquilly 
awaits his own coming change. Christ is to him life 
and resurrection, and he does not fear death : he 
knows that what is good in him is real, and what is 
real cannot die. 

See that youth, full of all good culture carefully 
acquired, full of all choice and rare ability care- 
fully trained. He has studied ; he has travelled ; he 
has written books, not yet published, but such as will 
give him a reputation among the first writers of his 
land. He has studied man and nature, and his words 
flow rich in all happy expression to convince and 
charm. All life is before him, full of promise. But, 
at the first call of his country's need, he goes to war ; 
in one of the first battles, he flings himself on the ene- 
my's batteries, and dies, shot by a ruthless bullet in 
the front field. Did he not love life ? Did he not fear 
death ? He loved life, but did not fear death ; be- 
cause his soul was full of realities : because he was not 
living for a name or an appearance, but for duty and 
manly accomplishment. He has passed away from 
earth, apparently leaving his work unfulfilled. But 



LIFE AND THE RESURRECTION. 



275 



God has many mansions in his house ; and every soul 
will find enough to do, and enough to be, somewhere 
in God's great heaven. 

► See, too, that woman who has been for long years a 
helpless invalid, with no ability (one would say) to 
learn or do any thing ; useless (one would think) to 
herself and to others. Ah, no ! She is learning in 
that helpless state new lessons every day of God's 
tender love ; she is teaching every day, by her pa- 
tience and goodness, new lessons to others ; and when 
her time is fulfilled, and she is gently called away, no 
one thinks, that, because her body is feeble and her 
sensations imperfect, she is not ready to live on and 
to go on. The soul within is full of healthy life, and 
she cannot die. 

These all die in faith, not having received the pro- 
mises. 

Even when a little infant goes, which has never 
done either good or evil in this world, its life's task 
all unlearned, its earthly work all undone : does any 
one doubt that it goes where better lessons will be 
provided, and a more suitable duty given ? We say 
in our souls, while tears dim our eyes, " Let the little 
one go to Jesus, and forbid him not ; for of such is the 
kingdom of heaven." 

It is not accomplishment, it is not attainment, that 
fits us for a higher life : it is faith. That is, it is 
that spirit which trusts and hopes, and looks forward, 
and does not despair. It hopes for others as. for it- 
self. It is patient, and therefore strong. 



276 



LIFE AND THE RESURRECTION. 



Immortality and resurrection, therefore, begin here. 
We rise with Christ into a higher life with every right 
word, act, purpose, and affection. We sit with Christ 
Jesus now in heavenly places. We are in heaven al- 
ready when we are full of love to God and man ; in 
hell already when we lose that love. Heaven and hell 
are both in us, and all outward heavens and hells 
through which we may pass are only the reflections 
and supplements to our inward state. There is every 
variety, no doubt, of heaven and of hell in the other 
world ; but they are all of them for our good. If we 
need hell, we shall go there ; if we are fit for heaven, 
we shall go there. But God is in both, and both are 
his servants. He does not take away those whom he 
loves to be with himself in some separate heaven. 
He does not leave the bad, abandoned of all hope, to 
' the Devil ; but he himself cares for all, and loves all. 
Those who do not love him, he loves ; those who do 
not know him, he knows ; those who are as yet wil- 
ful, selfish, unreconciled, he remembers. No doubt 
there are lost souls in the other world, as there are 
lost souls in this world ; but Christ, who came to seek 
and save the lost here, will seek and save the lost 
hereafter. Never was there a dogma more utterly 
baseless than that which teaches that this short life is 
all of trial allowed to us ; that all the discipline, pro- 
bation, and opportunity of the soul, is shut up in these 
few earthly years. Probably we shall 'need trial and 
probation for myriads of years ; probably heaven it- 
self shall not be free from trial and discipline. Even 



LIFE AND THE RESURRECTION. 



277 



the angels and archangels may have their temptations, 
their difficulties, their great opportunities, their per- 
petual choice of freedom. 

After all, nothing helps us so to believe in immor- 
tality and heaven as death. The man who is a sceptic 
and doubter in his study becomes a believer by the 
pale face of his darling child or the beloved bride of 
his heart. All which we see through a glass darkly, 
when we look at it merely with the intellect, we 
behold face to face when the heart is melted. As 
Stephen, stoned to death, saw heaven opened, so we, 
too, when we are beaten down* by disappointment and 
disaster, often see heaven opened. 

" Upon the frontier of this shadowy land, 
We, pilgrims of eternal sorrow, stand : 
What realm lies forward, with its happier store 

Of forests green and deep, 

Of valleys hushed in sleep, 
And lakes most peaceful ? "lis the land of Evermore. 

Very far off its marble cities seem, — 
Very far off, — beyond our sensual dream, — 
Its woods unruffled by the wild winds' roar ; 

Yet does the turbulent surge 

Howl on its very verge. 
One moment, and. we breathe within the Evermore. 

And those we loved and lost so long ago 

Dwell in those cities, far from mortal woe ; 

Haunt those fresh woodlands, whence sweet carollings soar. 

Eternal peace have they ; 

God wipes their tears away; 
They drink that river of life which flows for evermore." 



XX. 



POWEK OF THE KEYS. 



Kev. iii. 7 : " These things saith he that is holt, he that is 

TRUE ; HE THAT HATH THE KEY OF DAVID ; HE THAT OPENETH, 
AND NO MAN SHUTTETH J AND SHUTTETH, AND NO MAN OPEN- 
ETH." 

Luke xi. 52 : " Woe unto tou, lawyers ! for ye have taken 

AWAY THE KEY OF KNOWLEDGE : YE ENTERED NOT IN YOUR- 
SELVES, AND THOSE THAT WERE ENTERING IN YE HINDERED." 

Matt. xvi. 19 : "I will give unto thee the keys of the king- 
dom OF HEAVEN ; AND WHATSOEVER THOU SHALT BIND ON 

EARTH shall be bound in heaven, and whatsoever thou 

SHALT LOOSE ON EARTH SHALL BE LOOSED IN HEAVEN." 



KEY is a very ancient invention. You find keys, 



in Egyptian museums, made three thousand 
years before Christ : so that locks and keys were 
common enough among the Jews to be made use of 
as an illustration and metaphor by Jesus. In fact, 
locks and keys mark an epoch in civilization. The 
savage has nothing to lock up. If he has any thing 
he wishes to keep to himself, he hides it, as a dog 
hides his bone. When he can lock it up, and trust to 
the sacredness of a lock, he has already ceased to be 
a savage. In a yet higher civilization, I presume we 




POWER OF THE KEYS. 



279 



shall once again dispense with locks and keys, be- 
cause we shall have respect enough for each other 
to consider that all which any one wishes to keep to 
himself is sacred, even without a lock. In fact, locks 
are not now as common as they were once, nor as 
elaborate. In our homes we do not need them. Only 
on front-doors and bank-safes, and trunks when we 
travel, and the like, we use them. 

Now, there is a place which God has locked, and 
for which he has provided the keys : it is a place 
where he keeps his best treasures. But there is this 
peculiarity about it, that, whereas to each of our locks 
there is only a single kind of key, God's lock is so 
made, that a variety of keys will open it. 

This SECRET PLACE OF THE ALMIGHTY is in the 

depths of the human soul, — the depths out of which 
we cry to him. It is a place of profound peace when 
storms rage above and without. It is a place of per- 
fect love when passions chase each other, dark and 
violent, over the surface of our troubled life. It is 
the " kingdom of heaven," which Christ says is within 
us ; the " kingdom of "God," which Paul says is " right- 
eousness, peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost." 

Christ gave to Peter and to the apostles the keys 
to this kingdom of heaven. It is usually supposed 
that this refers to an outward heaven, to a heaven 
hereafter in the other world. The common Roman- 
Catholic idea is, that St. Peter sits at an outward 
gate, with the keys in his hand, and unlocks it to 
the good, but keeps it locked against the wicked ; 



280 



POWER OF THE KEYS. 



unlocks it to the Orthodox 7 but keeps it locked against 
the heterodox ; unlocks it to the members of the true 
Church, but keeps it locked against the heretics ; un- 
locks it to the converted, but keeps it locked against 
the unconverted. But it is certain that the door to 
any outward heaven lies through an inward heaven. 
If we do not first enter " the kingdom of heaven 
which is within us/ 7 we shall not enter any heaven 
above us or outside of us. It is always so. We find 
outside of us only that which corresponds to what is 
within. We feel outside that which we have felt 
within. Outward knowledge attaches itself to in- 
ward. An outward heaven is for those who have 
already gone into an inward heaven. 

Three men were riding on horseback through a 
romantic country on a summer's day. Their road 
wound up to the top of a hill ; and, when they reached 
the summit, a great range of country lay before them. 
They stopped to look at it. " How very interesting 
and extraordinary ! " said one. " So it is," said the 
others ; " more so than any place we ever saw." — 
tl What a splendid subject for a painting ! " said the 
first. " Do you see this little hill, with its dark clump 
of trees in shadow for the foreground ; and that beau- 
tiful middle distance, with the winding and reaches 
of the stream, and the village roofs all glittering in 
sunlight ; and then that exquisite soft blue distance, 
and the pale mountains beyond ? " — "I confess," said 
the second, " I did not see your picture ; but I was 
struck with the extraordinary geological character of 



POWER OF THE KEYS. 



281 



this interval, especially those terraces, one above the 
other, marking the heights at which the river used to 
stand." — " And I," said the third, " noticed neither ; 
but I thought I had never seen a place better adapted 
for a military position. That opening in the hills 
is so defensible ! those terraces are so adapted for 
batteries ! Nature has already made the works 
which would require an army working for months to 
erect." Thus these three gentlemen — one an artist, 
one a geologist, and the third a general — saw in the 
landscape what they had in their own minds ; and 
meantime their horses, I suppose, saw nothing in the 
valley but the probability of good pasture, with 
plenty of soft grass. 

Thus the outward heaven opens directly for every 
man out of his inward heaven. There is no locked 
door between. It is an open way, directly in and up. 
The moment we enter the inward heaven in our own 
soul, we are on the way to the heaven beyond. If 
the inward heaven is locked, then the outward one is 
locked too. If the heaven in the soul is not open, the 
heaven beyond is closed. If the heaven here on 
earth is bound, then that is also bound. If this is 
loosed, then that. Peter, therefore, and the apostles, 
do not sit by the gate of any outward heaven, but by 
the gate of the heaven in the soul ; and they hold the 
keys, and offer them to us. What are they ? How did 
Christ give them to Peter and to the other apostles ? 

Let us consider these questions a little more care- 
fully than usual. 



282 



POWER OF THE KEYS. 



The Roman-Catholic Church says that Christ gave 
to the Apostle Peter the keys of the kingdom of 
heaven. I agree that he did. The Protestant Church 
says that he also gave this same power to all the 
disciples, in that subsequent passage of Matthew, in 
which he says to all of them collectively what 
he before said to Peter individually. Roman Ca- 
tholics argue that the popes, being the successors 
of Peter, inherit his power of binding and loosing. 
Protestants argue that all Christian ministers inherit 
the same power from all the apostles. I agree to all 
this ; buf I believe still more than this. These theo- 
ries do not go far enough. Christ gave the keys to 
Peter ; he gave the keys to all the apostles ; he gave 
the keys to all the successors of Peter, and to all the 
successors of the apostles : but he gave the keys also 
to all Christians, in all places, and in all times ; to all 
who have Peter's faith. Every Christian, in my judg- 
ment, has the key to the kingdom of heaven ; and 
what he binds on earth is bound in heaven ; what he 
looses on earth is loosed in heaven. 

For what is meant by " the keys of the kingdom of 
heaven," and by " binding and loosing"? We have 
here three questions, concerning " the kingdom of 
heaven," concerning " the keys," concerning " bind- 
ing and loosing." Let us look at each of these ques- 
tions. 

What is meant by the kingdom of heaven ? We have 
already given our answer. It is the reign of God, 
first in the human heart, and then in the human life ; 



POWER OF THE KEYS. 



283 



the reign of truth and love ; the reign of the Messiah 
foretold by the prophets, when men should beat their 
swords into ploughshares, and when the desert should 
rejoice, and blossom as the rose ; it is the reign of 
Christ here and now ; it is Christianity in this world, 
beginning here, continued hereafter. The kingdom 
of heaven, then, is not heaven in the other world, 
but heaven in this world ; not heaven hereafter, but 
heaven here. It is true that it is continued into 
the other world ; but it begins in this world. When 
John the Baptist, when Christ, and when his apostles, 
preached, saying, " The kingdom of heaven is at 
hand," they meant a kingdom in this world. When 
w.e pray, in our daily prayer, " Thy kingdom come," 
we are praying for it to come here. In the parables 
which compare the kingdom of heaven to "leaven," 
to " mustard-seed," to " a net," &c, Christianity in 
this world is spoken of ; and so, when Christ speaks 
of the keys of the kingdom of heaven, it is the key 
to the kingdom of heaven in this world which is 
referred to. Heaven itself is the invisible, spiritual 
world of God ; but the kingdom of heaven is that 
world descending into this, God with us, the taber- 
nacle of God with men. The kingdom of heaven, 
therefore, means Christianity here, or Christ reigning, 
first in the heart, then in the Church, next in society, 
and lastly in the State. 

What are the keys of the kingdom of heaven? 
The keys are the power by which the door into this 
kingdom shall be opened. The kingdom is Chris- 



284 



POWER OF THE KEYS. 



tianity; the door is Christ himself; and the key is 
whatever reveals Christ or opens him, so that men 
may pass through him into Christianity. Jesus says, 
" I am the door. Through me, if any man enter in, 
he shall be saved, and shall go in and out, and find 
pasture." 

To " bind and to loose " means simply to open and 
shut the door. Doors were fastened anciently by 
ropes, and the key was used to fasten and to unfasten 
them. 

This, then, is the answer to our three questions. 
The kingdom of heaven is Christianity ; the key is 
that which opens the door of Christianity; binding 
and loosing is opening or shutting the door. 

The mistake which the Church has made concern- 
ing this doctrine of the keys has been to make the 
power of the keys something arbitrary. It has been 
supposed that Christ gave to Peter the power of 
deciding, in an arbitrary way, as to who should be 
admitted into heaven, or excluded from it ; or that 
he has given to the Church an arbitrary power of 
receiving members into it, or excommunicating them 
from it. But the power here given is not formal, but 
real ; not depending on any man's will or pleasure, 
but fixed in the nature of things. It is a power 
universally given to knowledge and insight. It is 
" the key of knowledge." All true insight is a key, 
with which to bind or loose, with which to open and 
shut. 

Two or three thousand years before the birth of 



POWER OF THE KEYS. 



285 



Christ, the Valley of the Nile was inhabited by a 
nation which had carried all the arts of life to a high 
state of perfection. One of their habits was that of 
writing. They kept a record of every thing. They 
had a rage for history. For thousands of years, the 
whole nation kept a diary of all events, great and small. 
They engraved, and painted over, the stone walls of 
their pyramids, temples, and tombs, with the most 
multitudinous details of public and private life. But 
what it all was, no one could tell. The key had been 
lost. But at last Champollion found the key, and 
opened the door ; and now all men can go in and out 
amid that mysterious Egyptian knowledge, and under- 
stand it. 

Knowledge in the mind of any one is a key by 
which he can open the door of science or of art to 
others. When the knowledge is only of facts or of 
laws, it can be communicated without enthusiasm or 
inspiration. But the higher kinds of knowledge 
require these. Spiritual and moral truth must be 
taught in a living way ,> not in the letter, but in the 
spirit. To bear witness to such truths no hearsay 
information will suffice, but only personal conviction. 
Flesh and blood cannot reveal it, but only " my Father 
w r hich is in heaven." 

It was this sort of knowledge concerning Christ 
which Peter at that moment possessed. He, like 
other Jews, was expecting the Christ to come in a 
grand outward way, with pomp and power, with signs 
from heaven ; living in Jerusalem like a king ; leading 



286 



POWER OF THE KEYS. 



great armies against the Romans, and driving them 
out, and placing the Jewish nation at the head of 
mankind. All at once, it flashed into the soul of Peter 
that this Jesus of Nazareth, the carpenter's son, the 
poor peasant of Galilee, was the great Messiah who 
was to come. This holy love and truth in him, 
this heavenly goodness, this strange wisdom, which 
moulded all minds, was the true sign of his divinity. 
It was but a momentary glimpse of the truth, but 
a glorious one. It was swept away the very next 
moment by the returning wave of prejudice anjl old 
opinion ; so that Jesus was obliged, directly after, to 
call Peter, Satan. But Jesus beheld in this moment- 
ary insight the germ of a living faith, and said, " On 
this rock will I build my Church." 

Personal, living faith in Christ is the key to Chris- 
tianity. All who have this faith, from the pope in the 
Vatican to the poorest slave on a Southern plantation, 
have the key to the kingdom of heaven ; and what 
they bind on earth is bound in heaven, what they 
loose on earth is loosed in heaven : that is, when they 
open the door, it is opened ; and when they shut the 
door, it is shut. 

Any such authority as this, if it were arbitrary, 
would be dangerous. We could not trust any human 
being with such power, and God would not trust him. 
But the power to bind and loose is not arbitrary. It 
depends on no man's will. It is a power which God 
gives of seeing and uttering the truth. Nor is it 
confided to one man, or to one class of men ; not to 



POWER OF THE KEYS. 



287 



bishops, not to priests, nor to ministers. It is given 
to the pure in heart, who see God : the keys are taken 
from the hands of the wise and the prudent, and given 
to the. babes. God enriches whom he will with 
utterance and knowledge. He reveals deep things 
by his spirit. He shows his truth to the humble and 
the sincere, and makes them able ministers of the new 
covenant. They are able, by manifestation of the 
truth, to commend themselves to every man's con- 
science. God shines in their hearts, to give the light 
of the knowledge of his glory, giving them the spirit 
of wisdom and revelation. Thus the power of the 
keys is the power given to all sincere hearts to see 
the truth and to utter it. 

Thus we understand what is meant by the keys in 
regard to opening the kingdom of heaven. All Chris- 
tians, when they speak out of their own Christian 
experience, open the kingdom of heaven. But how 
do they shut it ? 

All truth has two sides, positive and negative. It 
attracts and repels. It draws men toward itself, or 
sends them from itself. It is a savor of life or of 
death. It distinguishes good from evil, truth from 
error, right from wrong. When the sun rises, it not 
only makes lights, but also shadows. The side toward 
it is in light : the side turned away is in shadow. 

All divine offers are with conditions. Every thing 
has its price. The conditions are simple, but abso- 
lute. An invitation may be free, and yet conditional. 
You are freely invited to a great feast j but there are 



288 



POWER OF THE KEYS. 



conditions attached to the invitation. The first is, 
that you shall be willing to go, that you shall accept 
the invitation; the second is, that you shall go at 
the right time and to the right place ; and the third 
condition is, that, when there, you shall be dressed 
suitably, and behave properly. 

Christianity, like every thing else, has its limita- 
tions and its laws. " Except ye be converted, and 
become as little children, ye shall not enter into the 
kingdom of heaven.' 7 " Repent, and be converted, 
that your sins may be blotted out.' 7 " Believe on the 
Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved." " If we 
confess with our mouth the Lord Jesus, and believe 
in our heart that God has raised him from the dead, 
we shall be saved." " Every one that loveth is born 
of God, and knoweth G-od." " He that loveth not, 
knoweth not God ; for God is love." " If we confess 
our sins. He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, 
and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness." Every 
one of these conditions is a key which turns two ways. 
Turn it one way, it locks the door ; turn it the other, 
and it unlocks it. 

It is, therefore, easy to see how every Christian 
has given to him, in his sight of divine truth, the 
keys of the kingdom of heaven ; the power to bind and 
to loose, to open and shut ; to judge the world, men 
and angels ; to part the sheep from the goats. Whose- 
soever sins he remits, they are remitted ; and whose- 
soever sins he retains, they are retained. When he 
utters the truth, if men are willing to accept it, they 



POWER OF THE KEYS. 289 

enter the kingdom ; if unwilling, they turn away. 
Every true word makes a parting of the ways ; com- 
pels us to decide which way we will go, — whether to 
the right, into spiritual life ; or to the left, into spirit- 
ual death ; and is, therefore, a savor of life or of 
death. 

But human words have this great power only when 
they are the words of God, and not ours ; only when 
God speaks through us. When they proceed from 
our own will, they are empty and insignificant. 

But I have emphasized keys, in the plural. The 
text says keys, in the plural ; and that plural is signifi- 
cant. We are apt to suppose that there is only one. 
It is very natural. It is our church ; it is our creed : 
it is our experience : that is the only one. I recol- 
lect a young lady, who, having just been proselyted to 
the Roman-Catholic Church, wrote a letter to a friend, 
describing her satisfaction therein, and said, " Believe 
'me, true happiness and real peace cannot be found 
anywhere else than in our church." In like manner, 
you will hear those just converted to some other 
faith say the same ; or rather, let me say, converted to 
God by means of some other faith. I have heard 
the same sort of claim made, with perfect sincer- 
ity, for every church and for every creed. Each 
thinks the creed and church by which he has found 
heaven to be the only way to heaven. He does 
not know of any other. I have often thought that 
I should like to see a book written, to be called " The 
Book of Converts/ 7 containing the experiences, given 

19 



290 



POWER OF THE KEYS. 



by themselves, of those who have been converted 
from the Roman-Catholic Church to the Protestant, 
and vice versa ; from Orthodoxy to Unitarianism and 
to Universalism, and the contrary ; from Episcopacy 
to Quakerism ; to Swedenborgianism ; yes, even from 
Christianity to Infidelity, as well as from Infidelity to 
Christianity. For, from all these, you can find per- 
fectly sincere and honest statements of the joy and 
peace they have found in their new belief or unbelief. 
And such a book would tend to liberalize the Church ; 
showing, first, that no such conversion proved any 
thing in regard to the abstract truth of the system 
renounced or accepted, because the same comfort 
and peace is found by those going in and those going 
out ; and secondly, that, by all these various creeds 
and churches, God does teach something to the soul, 
and that all these experiences are keys to some one of 
the many mansions in God's heaven. God teaches us 
sometimes even by unbelief; and the way to heaven 
may descend through the dark, damp valley of denial 
and doubt, before it ascends into the region of upper 
light, life, truth, and joy. When any one is ready to 
collect such a book of experiences from such conver- 
sions, I shall be glad to furnish a motto for it out of 
Shakspeare. The motto is what the melancholy 
Jacques says at the end of " As you Like It," in 
regard to the duke : — 

" To him will I : out of these convertites 
There is much matter to be heard and learned." 



POWER OF THE KEYS. 



291 



Of these many keys, one is faith. This is the key 
which Peter had. But what sort of faith? That 
kind, says Jesus, which " flesh and blood " does not 
give, but my Father in heaven. The only faith 
which is a key to the kingdom within us is that of 
profound personal conviction. There are two kinds : 
first, that of hearsay belief, which flesh and blood 
gives us ; secondly, personal conviction, or the origi- 
nal sight of truth. The first often produces unbe- 
lief instead of belief. Formal acceptance of hereditary 
opinions is a kind of dead faith which is not faith. 
The witnesses in our courts are obliged to testify to 
what they have seen themselves : all hearsay evidence 
is ruled out. I think that God rules out of his courts 
all hearsay evidence. I wish the Church would do 
the same. A great amount of infidelity is produced 
by the dead hearsay faith of Christians. Every creed 
was once alive. It sprang all alive from the heart or 
brain of some earnest soul, like Minerva from Jupiter,, 
all aglow with inspiration ; but too often it dies of 
routine. 

The Church, frequently, instead of conviction, seeks 
assent. An earnest seeker, who doubts because he is 
seeking, is looked upon with fear ; a sceptic, who is 
on his way to belief through doubt, is thought to be 
criminal in that ; a person who loves truth so earnestly 
as not to be satisfied with words and phrases, who will 
not say that he believes till he does believe, — to him 
the Church turns the cold shoulder.- But a man who 
does not care enough about it to knoAv whether he 



292 



POWER OF THE KEYS. 



believes or not ; who is ready to accept thirty-nine 
articles, or three hundred and ninety-nine, just as it 
happens ; who in Catholic countries is ready to be a 
Catholic, and go to mass ; in Methodist countries, to 
shout and sing, and cry glory ; who in Boston is a 
Unitarian, and in Washington a Presbyterian, — he is 
the well-beloved son of the Church. The Church, 
usually, is satisfied with assent : it does not ask for 
conviction. 

But all sincere conviction is a key to open the' 
door of the kingdom of heaven in the soul. It leads 
us to belief in the reality of truth : that is the good 
it does. It destroys that worst of all scepticisms, — 
doubt if any thing be true or right. 

Again : the Church is a key. Its imposing cere- 
monies, its solemn sacraments, its majestic influences, 
bring peace to many souls, and educate multitudes 
to trust in God and to obedience. Yet it is the 
Church in the Church which does it. It is not the 
dead form, not the dead letter, but the life within. 
If the Church is only a form, then it is not a key. 
But, as long as you who are worshippers come to- 
gether with serious hearts, this teaches others; and 
they feel and say that " God is with you of a truth.' 7 
So it was in the early Church, when " the multitude 
who believed were of one heart and one soul ; neither 
said any of them that aught that he possessed was his 
own, but they had all things common." Then " great 
grace was upon them all ; " then they " did eat their 
meat with gladness and singleness of heart ; " and 



POWER OF THE KEYS. 



293 



then 11 the Lord added daily to the Church such as 
were saved." 

In the Epistle to the Corinthians, Paul makes the 
earnest utterance of the whole Church, the united 
expression of their honest convictions, a key to the 
kingdom of heaven. The miraculous and wonderful 
gift of tongues he thinks less likely to convert men 
to Christianity than the prophecy or teaching of 
the Church. Prophecy is speaking the truth seen in 
the heart. He says, If the whole Church come to- 
gether, and all speak with tongues, and strangers come 
in, they will think you crazy : but if you all teach, and 
a stranger comes in, he is convinced by what you say ; 
he sees that you know what is in his heart ; he falls 
on his face, and worships God, and declares that God 
is truly with you. 

I shall never forget an evening which I passed in 
the Cathedral of Antwerp, one of the noblest of 
mediaeval buildings. 

It was Sunday evening. I was alone in the city of 
Antwerp. I knew no one in the place, and no one 
knew me. All day long, I had not spoken to a living 
soul. I had been visiting churches, and seeing altar- 
pieces ; but my heart was lonely. In the evening, 
passing by the great cathedral, I saw a dim light 
issuing from a doorway. I went in. One part of the 
vast nave was lighted by a few candles hung against 
the columns. A few hundred people, clustered around 
the pulpit, were listening to a preacher speaking in 
Flemish. The light penetrated only a little way 



294 



POWER OF THE KEYS. 



through the forest of columns into the solemn dark- 
ness of the interior. I took a chair, and sat near the 
little congregation. I understood scarcely a word of 
what was said ; but I felt earnestness and sincerity in 
the tones of the speaker. I saw reverence in the 
faces of the worshippers. I was no longer lonely : I 
felt among friends. I felt the human hearts beating 
around me to the same tone as mine ; and I was in 
communion with those worshippers and with God. 
Their service was to me the key to the kingdom of 
heaven. 

Yet I recollect also how once, in Nice, I found 
a little body of Protestants worshipping in an upper 
chamber, without any solemn cathedral, majestic 
music, or ancient ceremony ; but in their worship, 
too, being in spirit and truth, I found a key to the 
kingdom of heaven. I entered heaven with them in 
prayer and praise, in faith and gratitude. 

But it is also true, that where two or three meet in 
the name and spirit of Christ, where two or three 
unite in any Christian work, there is also a door open- 
ing into heaven. Christ is with them, as he promised 
to be ; and where he is, there is heaven. Have we 
not talked in days gone by with dear friends, some 
of whom have since fallen asleep ? and as we spoke of 
earnest themes, as we talked of things divine, has 
not Jesus seemed to come and walk with us, and our 
hearts burn within us with a joy which was surely 
heavenly, and not earthly? And though these dear 
friends leave us, going on before into that higher 



POWER OF THE KEYS. 



295 



world where they shall ha^e more of heaven than 
here, it is yet the same kind of heaven they have had 
already. They have seen God here : they shall see 
him more nearly there. They have known Christ : 
they shall know him more intimately. They have had 
the joy of active usefulness, of living insight, of gene- 
rous affection : they shall have more of it there, — 
more to know, more to do, more to love. 

Nature is also a key to the kingdom of heaven ; 
for Nature is God revealing himself to us in all its 
majestic order, all its boundless variety, all its tran- 
scendent beauty, all its deep peace. Who has not felt 
his heart drawn to God by the glory of morning, the 
charm of evening, the solemn night, the majesty of 
ocean, the serenity of the mountain, the tenderness 
of flowers, and the forest-depths, full of mysterious, 
inexplicable influences ? " There are many voices in 
the world, and none of them without signification." 

God sometimes touches a hard heart with the fra- 
grance of a flower, or with a melody reminding it of 
childhood. You remember what Napoleon said to 
his marshals, when they were sneering at his encour- 
agement of the Catholic worship : " Yesterday I was 
walking in my garden, and I heard the church-bell of 
Ruel ; and involuntarily I was carried back for a mo- 
ment to my innocent childhood. Now, gentlemen, if 
the mere sound of a bell affects thus a man like me, 
such a man as I am, what must be the influence, of 
such associations on the general mind?" 

How often does God send trial and sorrow as keys 



296 



POWEE OF THE KEYS. 



to the kingdom of heaven ! If even Jesus learned 
obedience by the things he suffered, if even that pure 
soul went deeper into the love of God by the path of 
trial, if he could only become perfect through suffering, 
let us not murmur at our trials, which are sent to us 
that we may be partakers of the holiness of God. 

Sometimes little children come to us, bringing in 
their little hands the keys to the kingdom of heaven. 
The man whose heart was perhaps growing hard in 
the struggle of life ; who, unconsciously, was becom- 
ing worldly ; whose face, practised in meeting men, 
was gradually becoming rigid in its outlines ; whose 
keen eye was losing its tenderness, — has had sent to 
him these sweet little angels as a voice from God : — 

" Trailing clouds of glory do they come 
a From heaven, which is their home." 

His heart grows young again with them; his soul 
is softened by their infantile caresses; his life is 
checked in its tendency ; and they lead him to his 
Father and theirs. Nature's priesthood, these little 
children, in their innocence and simplicity, are ever- 
more bringing back the hearts of*fathers and mothers 
into a more simple and childlike trust and joy. Com- 
ing to us, they bring the keys of the kingdom of 
heaven. Going from us, they unlock those sacred 
doors ; and we, in our bereavement, find our hearts 
drawn up after them to God. The heavens, into 
which they have gone, remain open; and the fra- 
grance and melody of that upper world comes down 
to us here, and never leaves us again. 



POWER OF THE KEYS. 



297 



Thus God gives into our hands the keys with which 
we may open heaven to others. Not to Peter alone, 
not to the apostles alone, but to all of us, he says, 
" What ye bind on earth shall be bound in heaven ; 
what ye loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven." 
"Whenever we are faithful to our convictions, true to 
the light God shows to us, unselfish and generous, 
then we open the gateway of heaven to those who 
are with us. Whenever we are selfish and unbeliev- 
ing and hard, we shut the gateway. The -spirit we 
are in inevitably communicates itself even by our 
voice and tone, and preaches to others truth, gene- 
rosity, humility, faith, or preaches unbelief, selfish- 
ness, doubt, despair. Influence falls from us, at every 
moment, for good or evil. We say, by our state of 
mind, that there is something real in truth, in virtue, 
in love ; that immortality is not a dream ; that heaven 
is close at hand ; that life is rich in great opportu- 
nities. We say this every moment, when we are in a 
right state of mind ; and, in saying this, we unlock 
heaven to others, and lead them in. Or we say to 
others, by our formality, by our coldness, by our 
self-seeking, that religion is empty ,* that Christianity 
is only a name ; that life is a weariness ; that all 
things are vanity ; that love is an illusion ; that the 
gospel is a cheat and a lie. And, saying this, we lock 
the doors of heaven j we turn away from God those 
who are seeking him ; we make infidels and sceptics ; 
we corrupt innocent and childlike hearts by our world- 
liness. Such eternal consequences follow our trivial 



298 



POWER OF THE KEYS. 



earthly actions. So it is, that what we bind on earth 
is bound in heaven ; that what we loose on earth is 
loosed in heaven. 

Let us thank God that there are many keys by 
which to open the blessed door which leads into the 
heavenly kingdom. To one the door is opened in 
childhood ; and the dear little feet go in, and the 
small curly head is already surrounded with the pure 
glory of a light beaming from the presence of God. 
Another, in youth, drops the trivialities and follies of 
youth, and lifts deep, earnest eyes toward the great 
truths of life and time, of death and eternity. One 
enters the kingdom by faithful work : loyalty to duty 
unlocks the door, and he goes in. One finds the 
key through temptation, sorrow, sin, remorse, peni- ' 
tence, turning to God in hopeless shame, but meeting 
hope and unexpected joy shed abroad in his heart. 
One rises from the bed of sickness with all of his 
past life closed behind him ; and a new life, filled with 
purer hopes, opening upward into heaven. One is 
moved by the noble words, the holy life, and the rapt 
enthusiasm of the saints and martyrs, by the utter- 
ings of genius and the eloquence of fiery hearts ; 
and follows, with enthusiastic love, their pathway, 
till they lead him to the mountain-heights of holy 
truth. The words of a dear mother, the loving kiss 
of a dying child, the never-fading remembrance of a 
departed friend, of a noble and generous sister or 
brother gone before us to God, raise some of us 
above ourselves. Such are the multitudinous paths 



POWER OF THE KEYS. 



299 



which lead us to God: so we come, at last, to Christ, 
the image of the invisible God. The air of heaven, 
even here, begins to fan our heatec^ brow ; the music 
of heaven comes softly down, mingling with our 
daily life ; the light of the upper world shines down 
into our poor human hearts. God be blessed for it 
all, — for all the sorrow, all the joy, all the experience 
of good and evil, light threads and dark threads 
shooting to and fro across the web of human life ! 
Brothers and sisters, — dear friends of mine, fellow- 
workers in this wonderful world, — let us be fel- 
low-helpers through it, till we meet on that higher 
shore, in that larger liberty, and with that fuller peace 
of rest and action, which remains for God's children, 
beyond the low -arched gateway that mortals call 
death. 



XXI. 



THE PROPER AND THE BECOMING. 

Matt. iii. 15: "Thus it becometh us to fulfil all right- 
eousness." 

\1/THEN Jesus went to Bethabara to be baptized, 
* - John the Baptist refused to baptize him. John 
said ; " I have need to be baptized of thee ; and 
comest thou to me?" John had a profound feeling 
of the holiness and grandeur of Jesus. They were 
cousins ; they had known each other as children, 
known each other in youth ; and John felt that Jesus 
was so much holier and better than himself, that he 
was not fit to baptize him. Then Jesus made this 
answer : " Suffer it to be so now : thus it becometh 
us to fulfil all righteousness." What did he mean by 
it ? Why was it becoming in him to do this ? 

There seemed to be no good reason why Christ 
should be baptized. The usual reasons do not, appa- 
rently, apply to Jesus. Many came to John because 
they thought him a very holy man, whose blessing 
would help them in some mysterious, perhaps magical 
way. This was not the reason of Jesus ; for there is 



THE PROPER AND THE BECOMING. 



301 



a slight tinge of superstition in this motive. Jesus 
did not expect to be made better by being touched 
with John's hands. Others came to John from a 
moral motive ; came as sinners to confess their sin, to 
repent of it, to inaugurate a new life better than the 
old one. This was not the motive of Jesus : he 
needed not to repent, confess, or reform. He was 
free from sin, and needed no baptism to repentance. 
Another object of baptism is initiation. Proselytes 
were admitted into the Jewish Church by baptism ; 
catechumens are admitted into the Christian Church 
by baptism. This was not Christ's object. He did 
not come to John to be admitted into the number of 
his disciples. Some say that he was baptized as a con- 
secration to his office, as an act of self-dedication to 
the work of the Messiah. This could hardly be, since 
he did not mean to be known as the, Messiah until 
long after. , 

The only reason which Jesus had for being baptized 
seems to be the one which he gives in our text. It 
was becoming. It was not necessary for himself, nor 
for others ; it was not a baptism of repentance", nor of 
initiation, nor of dedication. It was simply becoming ; 
that is, handsome, suitable, in accordance with the 
circumstances, in harmony with the state of things. 
There was moral grace and beauty in it. That was 
all ; but that was enough. 

For in human actions, beside the element of neces- 
sity, of expediency, of duty, there is also the element 
of beauty. Some actions are morally beautiful, and 



302 



THE PEOPER AND THE BECOMING. 



are to be done for that reason. Such was that act of 
the woman in the gospel, who brought her alabaster 
box of precious ointment to Jesus, and anointed his 
feet therewith. There was no utility about it : it did 
no good, in any common sense. But it was " becom- 
ing; 7 ' it was beautiful; it expressed her intimate 
convictions, her love, her reverence, her devotion. 
Any thing which thus beautifully expresses a true and 
noble sentiment is becoming; and, because it is becom- 
ing, it is right. When David longed for the " water 
of the well of Bethlehem, which is by the gate," and 
his three mighty men brake through the enemy's 
ranks, and procured it for him, and he would not drink 
it, but poured it on the ground, saying, " Is not this 
the blood of the men who went in jeopardy of their 
lives ? " that was not a very reasonable action ; there 
was no use in wasting the good water which they all 
needed ; but it was a very becoming action. . Many 
actions are good because they are becoming, and for 
no other reason ; actions which political economy and 
utilitarian morality would quite condemn. A clergy- 
man in this city once declined an increase of salary. 
Twenty good reasons can be given why he ought not 
to have refused it: nevertheless, it was a becoming 
action. It had a moral beauty about it : no one can 
deny that. A butcher in Boylston Market declined 
selling a piece of meat to a United-States commission- 
er who had returned a fugitive, telling him that his 
money was "base money." So I knew a clergyman 
who sent back a part of his salary which had come 



THE PKOPER AND THE BECOMING. 303 



from rum-sellers. Both of these actions have moral 
beauty, as expressive of strong convictions of right, 
though they may both be quite open to objections on 
the side of political economy or utility. 

But, before going farther, let us stop a little, and 
analyze this term " becoming," and see precisely what 
it means. The Greek word np£ira,—To npeTtov,— is used 
in half a dozen places in the New Testament, and 
always with the same sense. In one place it is trans- 
lated " comely ; " in all other places, " becoming." 
Now, the " becoming " or " comely " is that which comes 
to a thing ; which suits it ; which is fit, suitable, congru- 
ous, in harmony with it. The harmonies of time, place, 
circumstance, are conveyed by this term; and the 
English word hints at a law of Nature, a law of attrac- 
tion which a thing exercises over other things that 
suit it, and are in harmony with it, so that they come 
to it. Like draws like : so harmonious persons, actions, 
and qualities come together. Perhaps this law in- 
cludes that which causes planets to gravitate to their 
sun, and that which causes crystals to be elaborated 
slowly, through thousands of years, in the depths of 
the earth, — includes the chemical affinities which 
mingle and arrange the elements of earth ; the law 
which makes seeds and plants to move toward the light 
and the moisture ; which occasions society to organ- 
ize itself in families, friendships, neighborhoods, and 
states ; which causes truth, holy and sacred, to be felt 
in the depths of the soul; which makes the reason re- 
spond to it, the conscience move to it, the heart cleave 



304 



THE PROPER AND THE BECOMING. 



to it ; which, in fine, causes man to worship G-od, and 
to serve his neighbor, because he was made for this 
piety and charity, and because it suits his noblest in- 
stincts so to do. So the world becomes a kosmos, 
( a beauty, when every part of it is filled with harmony. 

And why was it becoming in Jesus to be baptized 
by John? In two ways, — as a testimony to John; 
and as an expression of his own inward purpose. 

John was a true and a noble character; faithful 
and strong as steel ; ready to act and to bear for what 
he thought the truth. J esus, in coming to be baptized 
by him, took sides with him ; showed that he be- 
lieved him in the main to be right ; manifested his 
sympathy with him ; approved of his work ; showed 
a modest willingness to receive all he had to give. 
This was a becoming act in Jesus ; and it is always 
a sign of true greatness and nobleness thus to recog- 
nize desert, and bear a willing testimony to it. Not 
that John the Baptist ha<i not great faults: but he 
was a noble person, and doing a right work; and 
Jesus, instead of any captious criticism of his manner 
of acting, took openly his side. 

When a great controversy is going on, in which 
great principles of truth, justice, liberty, are involved, 
the noble-minded man wishes to act as Jesus acted; 
openly to take sides with those who are, in the main, 
in the right. A small-minded man, on the contrary, 
prefers to find petty faults, and refuses to co-operate, 
because some things are said or done which he thinks 
in bad taste or bad temper. 



THE PROPER AND THE BECOMING. 305 

When ideas and principles are on one side, and 
what we consider culture, taste, gentlemanly conduct, 
on the other, some persons take the latter ; but the 
highest souls choose the former. 

Some yeafs ago, in those days we all remember, 
when the abolitionists were very odious in Boston, 
the governor of the State recommended to the Legis- 
lature to pass a law to punish the writing and printing 
of what were called incendiary publications. The 
abolitionists asked to be heard in opposition to 
the passage of this law. A hearing was granted 
them ; and Mr. Garrison, Dr. Follen, and others, ap- 
peared before the committee to argue against the 
proposed law. While the argument was going on, the 
door of the room opened, and Dr. Channing appeared 
in the entrance. He was then at the height of his 
fame, the most conspicuous citizen of Boston ; having 
achieved a European reputation, and receiving visits 
every week from distinguished foreigners. Looking 
around the room, he discovered where Mr. Garrison 
was seated, — at that time, probably, the most unpopu- 
lar and odious person in the State. Passing by the 
dignified representatives and respectable citizens 
present, Dr. Channing went up to Mr. Garrison, 
took him by the hand, and took a seat by his side. 
In doing so, he seems to me, unconsciously perhaps, 
to have followed the example of Jesus Christ in the 
case before us. Dr. Channing and Mr. Garrison dif- 
fered from each other in many respects, and Mr. 
Garrison had not been sparing of his criticism of Dr. 

20 



306 THE PROPER AND THE BECOMING. 

« 

Channing's views ; but, feeling a profound sympathy 
with the main purpose and conviction which animated 
this reformer, Dr. Channing would not allow any 
minor differences, in matters of opinion or of taste, 
to prevent him from bearing his testimony to the 
essential justice of the cause. When an attempt 
was to be made to crush freedom of speech in Massa- 
chusetts, and to silence the voice which claimed liber- 
ty for the captive, Channing deemed it becoming to 
take his place by the side of this champion of the 
slave. 

But almost every good thing has its counterfeit, 
and so the becoming has its counterfeit. The coun- 
terfeit of the becoming is the proper. The morally 
beautiful is replaced by the conventionally correct. 
Propriety is a kind of minor morality, and governs 
society in social life, as public opinion governs it in 
public life. Thus mothers say to their children, " You 
must not do that, my dear." — " Why not, mamma?" 
" Because it is not proper, my child." This argument 
is deemed final and unanswerable. 

The most becoming things are not always the most 
proper things; for they are apt to be violations of 
etiquette. It was becoming of Jesus to be baptized ; 
but it was hardly proper. John was not a fit person, 
in the view of propriety, to keep company with, — 
a mere fanatic; a man living in the wilderness; 
living on locusts and wild honey, and dressed not in 
soft raiment or broadcloth. He had a devil, so they 
said ; was evidently crazy ; was a mere enthusiast, if 



THE PROPER AND THE BECOMING. 



307 



he was not an impostor. He probably wanted an 
office ; or, at any rate, was preaching doctrines which 
led directly to riots and insurrections. He did not 
' speak at all respectfully of the dignitaries and dis- 
tinguished people. He called the scribes and Phari- 
sees " serpents " and " a generation of vipers ; " though 
they were, in fact, the chief people in Jerusalem. 
Under these circumstances, propriety evidently for- 
bade Jesus from giving him any countenance : but 
it was becoming, nevertheless, to go, and share his 
unpopularity, and partake his odium ; and so Jesus 
went. 

The sources of the proper and the becoming are 
different. That which is becoming flows from an in- 
stinctive perception of what is morally beautiful. It 
leads us to fulfil all righteousness ; for it penetrates to 
small things. It makes life graceful and gracious by 
the multitude of little acts and words of kindness 
which it inspires. It is an invisible spirit of sympa- 
thy, faith, reverence, and modesty, which informs the 
manners, and makes one courteous, taking out of life 
whatever is harsh and hard. 

Seek, therefore, that which is becoming rather 
than that which is only proper ; for the becoming in- 
cludes the proper, but not the reverse. That which 
is truly becoming may indeed not always appear 
proper, though in the highest sense it may be so : 
for the proper means only that which is customary, 
or which other people do ; but the becoming is that 
which is suitable to present circumstances and pres- 



308 



THE PEOPEE AND THE BECOMING. 



ent needs ; whether it has ever been done before or 
not. 

Many things which Christ and his disciples did 
seemed highly improper to the Pharisees, who were * 
men of religious punctilio and etiquette. They did 
not think it proper that he should cure a sick man on 
the sabbath, or that his disciples should pluck ears of 
corn on that day. They thought it improper for the 
disciples not to fast, and still more improper that 
they should sing hosannas on his entrance into Jeru- 
salem. To drive the buyers and sellers out of the 
temple was not proper; and it was by no means proper 
to call the Pharisees serpents, and a generation of 
vipers. But, though these things were improper in 
view of religious pedantry, they were highly suitable 
under the circumstances, and therefore were becom- 
ing. For as propriety based upon custom is the 
highest law of conventionalism ; so the becoming, 
founded on the harmony of things, is the largest and 
highest law of realities. 

When Wesley began his great work, which revived 
the decaying religious life in the English nation, his 
course in many respects was thought very improper. 
In those days of drunken curates and fox-hunting 
rectors, when Paley had to advise the clergy not to 
drink and play cards in ale-houses, it shocked all Eng- 
land to hear of lay-preaching and services in the open 
air. I know not a more striking scene than that of 
John Wesley preaching at Epworth, in the -churchyard, 
in the evening twilight, standing on his father's tomb, 



THE PROPER AND THE BECOMING. 309 



when he was shut out of his father's church. " They 
accuse us/' said he, " of indecorum because we preach 
in the open air. I go into their churches, and find 
drowsy congregations and sleepy preachers : in that 
I see indecorum. But I have preached on the hill- 
side to many thousand people, who were so attentive, 
that when a wall fell down, upon which a great many 
people were sitting, it made no disturbance in the 
congregation." 

Propriety in the pulpit is not always equivalent to 
what is becoming therein. If a minister wishes to 
do what is proper in the pulpit, he can very easily 
accomplish that task. All he has to do is to keep in 
the line of safe precedents, and do as others have 
done already. He may defend with some energy • 
all the accepted and popular opinions of his church ; 
he may wax warm against heretics, and may even be 
slightly and handsomely severe in speaking of them. 
He may also condemn as strongly as he will the Jew- 
ish scribes and Pharisees. He may be sarcastic 
against Pontius Pilate. He may denounce Roman 
Catholics and Infidels ; and may say almost any thing 
he chooses against Hume, Yoltaire, and Rousseau. 
But let him beware how he censures the vices of his 
own time and his own community. He may show the 
people the sins of their grandfathers, and they will 
listen ; but, if he tries to show their own sins, some 
will always say it is improper to do so. Taking a man 
from Africa to make a slave of him, he may call piracy ; 
but taking a man from Boston to make a slave of him, 



310 



THE PROPER AND THE BECOMING. 



he must not call kidnapping : if he does, some alder- 
man will walk out of church.* 

I do not know whether the parishioner was con- 
vinced ; but I k$ow that Amasis, King of Egypt, was a 
much wiser man than some of these discontented 
parishioners. Before he became king, he was dis- 
posed to pilfer ; and, when accused of taking people's 
property, he would appeal to the oracle of the place, 
which would sometimes acquit and sometimes con- 
demn him. When, therefore, he became king, he paid 
no attention to the gods and oracles that had acquitted 
Mm, nor contributed to their temples ; considering 
them of no consequence, and as lying oracles. But 
to such as convicted him of theft he paid the highest 
• respect, considering them as truly gods and truth- 
tellers ; for of what use are gods and pulpits that do 
not tell us the truth? 

But I consider nothing more becoming in the pulpit 
than to speak the truth, — simple, pure, plain truth. 
It might have been quite improper in Nathan to re- 
buke the great King David, and to be guilty of the 
personality of saying, " Thou art the man ! " but it was 
becoming. It was no doubt thought very improper in 
Jesus to drive the money-changers out of the temple, 
and to say harsh things about those highly respect- 
able people, the scribes and Pharisees. It was not 
proper for Luther to burn the pope's bull, for Horace 



* This sermon was preached in the bad days of 1851. Since then, 
what a change ! 



THE PROPER AND THE BECOMING. 311 

Mann to expose the iniquities of slavery, or for John 
Pierpont to set forth the miseries and woes which 
come from making and selling rum. These things 
were not thought proper ; for you will observe, that, 
of all sticklers for propriety, those are the chief who 
make gain by any sort of wrong-doing. 

Nations, as well as individuals, can do that which 
is becoming, sometimes transcending the limits of 
utilitarian prudence and propriety. When, in the 
Irish famine, the ship "Jamestown" crossed the 
ocean to carry food, political economy might not 
wholly approve it ; but surely it was noble and be- 
coming. And when the English nation, on the 1st of 
August, 1838, emancipated eight hundred thousand 
slaves, and gave a hundred millions of dollars to com- 
pensate their masters, it was not wise, perhaps, in 
the sense of political economy ; but it was wise in the 
wisdom of heavenly truth and justice. 

When Florence Nightingale found that the food 
and comforts destined for the sick soldiers were kept 
locked up and unused, because no one knew who had 
authority to dispense them, she ordered the doors to 
be broken open, and the provisions to be taken to the 
hospital. That was certainly improper: it was also 
certainly becoming. 

It sometimes takes a high soul and a great nature 
to elevate the thing which is improper, and to make 
it becoming. What more improper than for Joan of 
Arc to ride in man's clothes at the head of an army, 
and offer herself to lead soldiers into battle ? yet the 



312^ THE PROPER AND THE BECOMING. 

act, so evidently improper, is the most beautiful event 
in the history of a> thousand years. Yet to imitate 
that act would require another soul as pure and 
brave as hers. 

The becoming flows, as we have seen, from an in- 
stinctive perception of what is morally beautiful. It 
leads us to fulfil all righteousness ; it penetrates to 
small things ; small acts and words of kindness flow 
out of it ; it makes life graceful and gracious ; it is an 
invisible spirit of sympathy, of love, of faith, of hope, 
of reverence, of modesty, of joy, which informs the 
manners, and makes one gentle, courteous, and kind ; 
taking out of life all that is harsh and hard. 

Instead, therefore, of aiming at what is proper, aim 
at what is becoming. 

As regards children, what is becoming in them 
is to have a spirit of reverence and of confidence 
conjoined ; a spirit which respects parents, teachers, 
superiors ; which reverences all that is above them, 
but is not checked in that charming confidence and 
freedom which makes the grace of childhood. In- 
stead of surrounding them with bristling proprieties, 
show them how to respect others ; and teach them to 
be simple, sincere, and truthful themselves. These 
two graces are natural to childhood : only let them 
not be repressed. 

In young men, the spirit which makes the becoming 
is a spirit of modesty and manliness, which, when 
combined, form the elements of moral beauty, — a 
modesty which avoids conceit, arrogance, and preten- 



THE PROPER AND THE BECOMING. 313 



sion ; and a manliness which is ready to do its work 
bravely, and to take hold of life with courage and 
self-reliance. 

In young women, the becoming spirit is the same. 
We wish to see in them freshness of thought, and 
openness of manner; we wish to see also the spirit 
of respect and consideration for all that is around 
them. The charm of womanhood is this combina- 
tion of expansive sympathies and fresh impulses, 
with quick consideration for the feelings and rights 
of all others. 

In all we do, the becoming, the beautiful, that 
element which makes heroes in heroic times, and 
gives romantic beauty to life, is the spirit of rever- 
ence and the spirit of freedom. Life is full of 
awe and mystery. God, the Eternal and Infinite, is 
always near. Death surrounds us and attends us ; 
the inscrutable mysteries of a great hereafter are 
always close at the door. Therefore reverence and 
religious awe are becoming to man ; reverence for 
God's presence everywhere, — for Him who filleth all 
in all. No one but respects the man who respects 
God ; no one but sees the beauty of the truly reli- 
gious character. The religion of propriety and of 
usage is cold and cheerless : but the religion which 
sees the wonders and glories of eternity gleaming ever 
through the portals of time — this commands the re- 
spect of all ; is felt to be comely, heroic, and admi- 
rable. 

" It becometh us to fulfil all righteousness ; " to 



314 THE PROPER AND THE BECOMING. 



respect every manifestation of the truly religious life ; 
to give our testimony to all parts of Christian faith 
and action; but especially to live in that spirit of 
mingled reverence and freedom which shall enable us 
to comply with propriety or to transcend propriety ; 
always to live near to God ; and always to do that, and 
speak that, which is beautiful, gracious, and of good 
report. 



XXII. 

THE FAVORITE TEXTS OF JESUS. 
Luke iv. 17: "He opened the book, and found the place." 

\17"HEN you read an interesting book, it becomes 
" " more interesting if you find that some one 
whom you love and respect has read it before you, and 
has marked, here and there, any favorite passages. 
The first time I read Spenser's " Fairy Queen," it was 
in Kentucky, and in a copy which had belonged to 
the poet John Keats. It was marked all through with 
his pen at those places which especially interested 
and pleased him. I enjoyed the book all the more 
for those marks. The pleasure you find in this, 
arises, I think, from the fact that you are reading two 
minds at the same time, — the mind of the author, 
and that of the previous reader. You seem to look 
into the heart and thought of him who has gone 
before you ; and, whenever you come to his pencil^ 
mark, you say, " Why was he interested in this ? " 
and you stop a moment to read in your friend's mind 
what his thought Avas about the author. 

Now, suppose that we could have the very copy of 
the Hebrew Scriptures which was used by Jesus 



316 



THE FAVORITE TEXTjf OF JESUS. 



when a child, a boy, a man ; at Nazareth, — the very 
rolls, marked in the margin with his hand at his 
favorite passages : could any thing be more inter- 
esting than this ? Would it not let us into the mind 
of Christ to see what texts he loved the most in all 
the volume ? How very interesting, how deeply 
affecting, would it be to see the Bible which our Lord 
used! I was interested in John Keats's marks in 
" Spenser," because he was a poet too. A poet read- 
ing a poet seems to be a good guide ; but Jesus, the 
prophetic soul, reading the books of the great pro- 
phetic souls who went before him, interprets them- 
to us best of all. 

We have not the Bible that Jesus used ; but we 
have almost the same thing : we have his favorite pas- 
sages in the Old Testament given to us in another 
way. We have his quotations from it preserved for 
in us the New Testament. All may not be preserved ; 
but we have about forty passages, quoted by Jesus 
from the different Jewish Scriptures. 

I have thought it might be interesting and useful 
to look at these, or at some of them, and so get a 
glimpse into the mind of Jesus through this little 
window. 

Jesus has quoted about thirty-nine passages from 
eleven books of the Old Testament. From each of 
the five books of Moses, Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, 
Numbers, and Deuteronomy, fifteen passages ; nine 
passages from the Psalms ; seven from Isaiah ; eight 
from Jeremiah, Hosea, Malachi, and Zechariah. 



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He has quoted nothing from the historical books, 
from Joshua to Esther inclusive; nothing from Job, 
Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, or the Song of Solomon ; 
nothing from twelve of the prophets, including Eze- 
kiel and Daniel. 

Let me remark, before proceeding further, that, in 
quoting from the Old Testament, our Lord thinks more 
of the spirit than of the letter. He quotes sometimes 
from the Hebrew, and sometimes from the Septua- 
gint Greek translation ; and of some passages it is 
hard to say whence they are quoted. Sometimes he 
puts together two texts from different places, as when 
he says, "It is written, -My house shall be called a 
house of prayer for all nations ; but ye have made it 
a den of thieves." The first half is from Isaiah, the 
last from Jeremiah. Therefore he has not any idea 
of using these passages logically f as proof-texts, or 
controversially as arguments adapted to convince 
doubters ; for, in such a case, it would have been 
necessary for his purpose to quote with precision. 
The object for which he adduces these passages is 
moral and spiritual, for which no r such accuracy 
is needed. 

CHRIST FULFILLING SCRIPTURE. 

He sometimes spoke of himself as fulfilling these 
Scriptures. I think we often have a false idea of 
what is meant by this. We suppose that it means to 
adduce a prediction which is literally accomplished 
by a fact. We suppose that Jesus did certain things 



318 THE FAVORITE TEXTS OF JESUS. 



merely to fulfil the predictions of Scripture. Thus we 
might suppose that Jesus healed diseases to fulfil one 
prophecy of Isaiah ; that he kept silence about him- 
self to fulfil another ; and spoke in parables to fulfil a 
third.* 

But this is not the Scripture meaning of " fulfil. " 
Such a fulfilment of prophecy as this would have no 
value, and reflect no honor on prophecy. When an 
astronomer predicts an eclipse to take place on a cer- 
tain day, at a particular hour and minute, and it does 
happen at that very time, we see in it a proof of 
knowledge on his part ; but if G-od should interfere, 
and cause an eclipse to happen then, merely to con- 
firm the astronomer's prediction, it would not be any 
proof of his science. So, if Jesus worked miracles 
or spoke parables merely because it .had been pre- 
dicted that he wo.uld do so, it would not redound to 
the credit of the prophecy. If you predict, that, on 
a certain day, I shall preach a sermon on a certain 
text, and I select that text in order to fulfil your 
prophecy, do you not see that it would not give any 
one faith in your prophetic talent? 

There is another sense in which the word " ful- 
filled ;? is used in the New Testament. Jesus fulfilled 
Scripture in another way. To " fulfil," in the Scrip- 
ture sense, is " to carry out perfectly : " it is to de- 
velop a principle or truth to its ultimate result. 



* The usual formula on these occasions is, " All this was done, 
that it might be fulfilled which was spoken by the prophet," &c. 



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319 



Thus " lore is the fulfilling of the law ; " that is, 
it carries law out to its last results. " Fulfil ye my 
joy ; " that is, carry it fully out. " He will fulfil the 
desire of them that fear him ; " that is, give them 
all they desire. " It becometh us to fulfil all right- 
eousness ; " i.e., carry it all out perfectly. Thus the 
law is fulfilled, obedience is fulfilled, joy is fulfilled, 
in this way, by being carried to perfection. 

Jesus fulfils all things in the law and the prophets 
by carrying each thing fully out to its perfection. 
"I came not to destroy, but to fulfil." He sees a 
germ of good in all things : he comes to fulfil it. He 
destroys nothing. He does not destroy any thing 
in nature or in man, or in human life, or in the re- 
ligions of the world : he fulfils them all. 

Thus it was that Jesus did not destroy, but fulfil, 
the Hebrew law. He took up its essence into his 
own doctrine, and dropped its accidental form. He 
fulfilled its morality by a higher morality. The law 
written on stone was fulfilled by a law written in the 
heart. He changed it from a law of negation and pro- 
hibition into one of attraction, of positive good. Thus, 
when the law said, "Do not murder," Christ fulfilled 
it by saying, " Love your enemy." 

MERCY, AND NOT SACRIFICE. 

One of his favorite passages — which he quotes, 
indeed, twice, and in reference to two different mat- 
ters — is from Hos. vi. 6: "I desired mercy, ard 
not sacrifice ; and the knowledge of God more than 



320 THE FAVORITE TEXTS OF JESUS. 



burnt-offerings." The first time was when^esus was 
reproved for eating with publicans, and said, " Go, 
and learn what that meaneth, I will have mercy, and 
not sacrifice." The other time was when his disci- 
ples plucked ears of corn on the sabbath-day. The 
Pharisees blamed them; but Jesus said, "If ye had 
known what this means, I will have mercy, and not 
sacrifice, you would not have condemned the guilt- 
less." Evidently, he had thought of it often, and 
deeply. What does God wish of us ? Does he wish 
any thing from us ? Does he wait and long to have 
any thing? He wishes for mercy to man, not sac- 
rifice to himself; good-will to our brethren, not 
worship to himself. Sabbath-keeping is good; but 
love is better, — care for man is better. Do we re- 
alize this ? I am afraid, not. We do not know now, 
eighteen hundred years since Christ said it, twenty- 
six hundred years since Hosea said it, what it means. 
There is meaning in it yet, which the Church has 
not exhausted. Jesus was deeply convinced that 
good to man was the best worship of God. God is 
wishing for this ; God is wishing that you and I 
should do more for those who need than we now do. 

MAN LIVES BY TRUTH, NOT BY BREAD. 

Another favorite passage of Jesus is found in 
Deut. viii. 3. It teaches that God led the Jew- 
ish nation forty years in the wilderness, to humble 
and prove it, and to know what was in its heart; 
and goes on thus : " He humbled thee and proved 



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thee, and suffered thee to hunger, and fed thee with 
manna, which thou knewest not, neither did thy fa- 
thers know ; that he might make thee know that man 
doth not live by bread only ; but by every word that 
proceecleth out of the mouth of God doth man live." 
In the Hebrew text, the original expression is " every 
thing;' 7 in the Septuagint it is " every word." Je- 
sus here follows the Septuagint. 

In reading Deuteronomy, his eye caught at this. 
How does man live ? What is man's true life ?. Not 
of the body, but of the soul. What is his real food ? 
Truth, the sight of truth, coming from God, — this 
is his real life. 

If, then, he must sacrifice everything else, — all 
comfort, success, appreciation, reputation ; if he must 
be laughed at, set aside, counted as nothing; if his 
life seems a failure ; if he have many enemies and few 
friends, — all this is nothing, if he really sees the 
truth ; for this will make him strong and happy. 
He can live on this, and live joyfully. He will have 
no sense of sacrifice : all will be glad and joyful in 
his heart while he sees the truth. 

In the hour of his great temptation, these words of 
Moses came to him ; and it had become an intimate 
conviction with him, so that he resisted the tempta- 
tion easily, and said to Satan, " I do not need bread : 
1 need to be right. I am not hungry for any thing 
this world can give ; I am hungry for truth : my long- 
ing is for that." 

So afterward he said to the Jews (with a reference 
21 



322 THE FAVOKITE TEXTS OF JESUS. 



to this passage in his mind), " Moses gave you not 
that bread from heaven : my Father giveth you the 
true bread from heaven." Miraculous bread does not 
come from heaven ; for, after all, it is material food, not 
spiritual. Nothing comes from heaven but' what is 
spiritual. 

This quotation also illustrates his meaning in the 
petition, " Give us this day our daily (necessary) 
bread." Truth is daily bread, more necessary even 
than earthly food ; and is always to be understood as 
included in this petition. 

GOD THE GOD OF THE LIVING. 

The passage (Matt. xxii. 32 ; Mark xii. 26 ; Luke 
xx. 37) quoted from Exod. iii. 6, 16, is very interesting 
and important. 

God in this place says to Moses, " I am the God of 
Abraham, and the God of Isaac, and the God of Ja- 
cob." Jesus takes this as the proof-text of immortali- 
ty in the Old Testament. Why did he do so ? 

It is well known that there is little to be found in 
the Old Testament concerning a future life. Some 
writers say that nothing is there. All that the J ews 
learned about it they are said to have learned in the 
Babylonish captivity. Yet some other passages Jesus 
might have quoted. There is, for instance, the 
famous passage in Job, "I know that my Redeemer 
liveth," &c. There is that in Daniel, " Many of them 
who sleep in the dust of the earth shall awake, some 
to everlasting life, and some to shame and everlasting 



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323 



contempt. And they that be wise shall shine as the 
brightness of the firmament ; and they that turn many 
to righteousness, as the stars for ever and ever." 

But Jesus passed by these texts, which are com- 
monly quoted as proof-texts of immortality, and took 
this one. Why? If God is our God, he says, we 
cannot die. He is a living God. He speaks of 
Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob as being his. The mo- 
ment he calls them his, they must be alive. For God 
to think of them would make them alive, if they had 
been dead a thousand years. 

Is not this the only guaranty of life? It is the 
interest felt by God in each particular soul, the love 
of God for each soul. If every soul is a separate 
being to God, with a separate, special value, a name 
of its own, then each soul must live. If he knows you 
and me, knows us as he has made us, and made us for 
himself, then we cannot die. 

Why, if you have taken pains to carve a figure, or 
draw a man's face with a pencil, you do not quite like 
to destroy it. You have put some of yourself into it. 
God has put something of himself into each of us. 
We, therefore, all live to him ; for we all live from 
him. 

This is the highest proof of immortality ; but it is 
a proof not addressed to the logical understanding, 
but to the higher reason. It shows us what Jesus 
regarded as the true authority of the Old Testament 
in proof of doctrine. * 

Tne common mode of proof by theologians is to 



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say, " Here are so many texts in which such a doc- 
trine is stated by Moses, Job, Solomon, and Micah : 
but these are inspired men ; therefore God says it ; 
therefore, whether you can understand it or not, you 
must believe it." This is arguing like a pedagogue, 
not like a Christian teacher. 

But Christ does not quote Scripture thus. He 
does not concentrate a battery of texts, torn from 
their contexts, with which to confuse and prostrate 
an opponent. Instead of this, his argument demands 
the presence of some religious insight in order to be 
understood, and it is convincing in proportion to the 
amount of faith in the hearer. The word of Jesus 
profits only when mixed with religious faith in those 
to whom he speaks. To feel the force of this pas- 
sage, for example, one must know something of the 
nature of love, human and divine ; something of the 
nature of the human soul, and its worth ; something 
also of what life really is. 

THE MESSIAH. 

There is a peculiar interest in noticing the passages 
which Jesus quotes from the Old Testament, in regard 
to the Messiah, as applied to himself. 

Luke iv. 18, 19, — taken from Isaiah (lxi. 1, 2). 
Jesus quotes the following passage : " The Spirit of 
the Lord is upon me, because he hath anointed me 
to preach the gospel to the poor : he hath sent me to 
heal the broken-hearted, to preach deliverance to the 
captives, and recovering of sight to the blind ; to set 



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325 



at liberty them that are bruised; to preach the accep- 
table year of the Lord." 

In this passage, which Jesus selected from the book 
of Isaiah to read at Nazareth among his own people, 
and which he applied to himself after having read it, 
we gather the view he himself took of his own 
work. 

There are many other passages in Isaiah, usually 
applied to Christ, and supposed to be predictions of 
the Messiah, which Jesus might have quoted, but did 
not. There is the passage concerning " Immanuel," 
in the seventh chapter. There is the passage 
(Isa. ix. 6) in which Christ is usually believed to be 
predicted, and in which he is called " Wonderful, 
Counsellor, the mighty God, the everlasting Father, 
the Prince of peace ; " but Jesus does not select this 
passage. 

Then there is the famous passage (in Isa. xi.) in 
which is described the Branch that was to grow out 
of the stem of Jesse, — a passage which contains a 
beautiful description of the coming of Christ, and of 
his kingdom of peace ; but even this he passes by. 
More remarkable is it that he entirely omits to notice 
the famous prophecy (in Isa. liii.) of the man of sor- 
rows, except by a casual allusion. Still less does he 
refer to the prophecy of a triumphant and conquering 
Messiah, who overcomes his enemies, and subdues na- 
tions ; but he selects this passage, in which the Messiah 
is described as sent to preach to the poor and to heal 
the broken-hearted. Evidently he had often dwelt in 



326 THE FAVORITE TEXTS OF JESUS. 



his mind upon this view of the Christ. He saw him- 
self called to be the Messiah in this high sense ; and 
in this sense he really became the Messiah. 

There is another passage concerning the Christ, 
which he quotes (Matt. xxii. 44) from the hundred 
and tenth Psalm. In this Psalm, David calls the 
Christ, whose coming he foresees, " my Lord." Je- 
sus asks the Pharisees how David could have called 
his own descendant " my Lord." This question, 
which is left unanswered both by the Pharisees and 
by Jesus himself, shows that he had meditated 
upon its meaning. He saw that the Messiah was not 
to be merely a continuation of David, or a reproduc- 
tion of David : he was to go on from the standpoint 
of David to a much higher one. David was already 
so glorified in the Jewish mind, that the Jews mostly 
expected in the Messiah only another David ; but 
Jesus had seen intimations in the Old Testament 
itself of that which he saw clearly in the prophetic in- 
stincts of his own soul, — that the day of the Messiah 
was to transcend by a long interval that of David. 

Put together these two passages, in one of which 
Jesus had found from Isaiah that the work of the 
Messiah was to comfort and help the lowly ; and in 
the other, that by this work he was to become David's 
Lord. The two, thus united, result in the central 
idea of Christ's teaching, that he who humbles him- 
self shall be exalted ; that the work of the Messiah is 
to seek and save those who are lost. Thus, no doubt, 
by the revelations made to his own soul, and by medi- 



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tations on these profound passages of Scripture, Jesus 
gradually formed in his mind the idea of the true 
Messiah, and saw that he was sent to fulfil it. This 
was his mission in the world ; for this God had sent 
him. He did not accommodate Scripture to his idea, 
as is the fashion sometimes to say; nor did he change 
his idea to suit the Scripture: but he saw that in 
essence and spirit they were identical. When he 
said, " Your father Abraham rejoiced to see my day \ 
and he saw it, and was glad ; " and then added, " Be- 
fore Abraham was, I was the Christ," — we see that 
Jesus, meditating on the promise to Abraham, that 
in his seed all the nations of the earth should be 
blessed, saw that this prophecy could only be ful- 
filled by a Jew, who, like himself, had risen wholly 
above the distinction of Jew and Gentile, and to 
whom all mankind were brethren, because children of 
one Father. 

Observe also the authority which the Master claims 
for himself as the Son of man, -g- that is, as the man in 
whom humanity took its full development ; who, be- 
cause perfectly Son of man, is, therefore Son of God. 
For that which is perfectly human comes into a per- 
fectly filial relation to the Father. He who stands in 
this relation to God and man stands higher than 
the Scripture, because at the source from whence the 
Scripture came. He has the same spirit from whence 
the Scripture proceeded. Hence Jesus considered 
himself to be, not the servant, but the master, of the 
sabbath ; not the servant, but the master, of the ten 



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commandments. In Matt. xix. 18, he re-arranges 
them, putting " Honor thy father and mother n after 
the rest, instead of before them; and adding an 
eleventh commandment, out of Lev. xix. 18 : " Thou 
shalt love thy neighbor as thyself." Evidently, our 
Lord, in reading Leviticus, had seen this command 
shining like a star in the midst of the ceremonial and 
ritual ordinances. It left its place in Leviticus, and 
joined the ten great commandments, at his behest; 
for he was Lord of the Scripture as of the sabbath, 
because he was the Son of man. 

This very phrase — " Son of man " — was taken by 
Jesus from Dan. vii. 13. In this passage, the Messiah 
is represented as " a man" coming " with the clouds 
of heaven," and standing before the " Ancient of 
days" to receive an everlasting dominion which shall 
never pass away. There Jesus could see himself to 
have been foretold by the prophets. He saw himself 
as a man, receiving an everlasting dominion, but 
coming " in the clouds, of heaven ; " for the " clouds 
of heaven," in the language of the Old Testament, in- 
dicate the obscurity which surrounds the providences 
of God. When Jesus predicts his future coming as 
to be " in the clouds of heaven," he means that it 
will be without " observation." 

The subject I have spoken of is one for a book, not 
for a sermon. 

These thirty-nine quotations from the Old Testa- 
ment deserve to be weighed carefully, till we learn 
what Jesus found in each of them. His meditations 



THE FAVORITE TEXTS OF JESUS. 329 



on them are full of light for us all. We shall find that 
to him the Old Testament was a book most valuable, 
not for what it said, but for what it suggested ; that 
he searched in it for the spirit, and not for the letter ; 
that he did not value its prodigies and wonders ; that 
he did not regard its long processi m of marvels and 
portents ; that all its savage wars he omits to notice ; 
and that of the worldliness, infidelity, and unbelief of 
its people and princes he says nothing. Solomon, for 
example, who is to the Mahommedans so much, to 
Jesus is nothing. 

The texts most quoted by our modern Orthodox 
teachers and writers, Jesus never quotes at all. 

Jesus took the best out of the Old Testament as out 
of every thing. This is the lesson of his quotations. 
He passes by the low, the mean, the false, and finds 
the good. Finding the good, he found the true ; for 
only that which is good is really true. 

How differently have others studied the Old Testa- 
ment ! Some study it to find proof-texts of this or 
that doctrine ; some to find arguments in favor of old 
abuses, slavery, intemperance, polygamy, despotism, 
persecution, war, witchcraft j some to find faults, 
errors, contradictions, absurdities, in its letter ; some 
to justify low views of God as an arbitrary Being, of 
man as a degraded being. But Jesus studies these 
inspired writings to find the best, highest, and purest 
in* all things. So he finds in them a divine spirit ; 
he searches in them for a profounder sense of God's 
love ; he develops them all to a higher point; and he 



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thus fulfils every thing which they contain. He 
makes them full of meaning and full of life. He takes 
out of the hard shell its living kernel ; he supersedes 
much of them, and values always the practical part 
more than the ceremonial. 



XXIII. 



DIARY OF 1863. 



2 Cor. iii. 3 : "Ye are manifestly declared to be the epistle 

OF CHRIST, WRITTEN NOT WITH INK, BUT WITH THE SPIRIT OF 
THE LIVING GOD; NOT IN TABLES OF STONE, BUT IN FLESHLY 
TABLES OF THE HEART." 



T the beginning of the year, one of the usual 



actions is to provide one's self with a diary, — a 
little blank volume, with each day of the year having 
a space arranged for it ; in which its engagements may 
be written beforehand, and its events afterward. 
Many persons have, for years, found it convenient, 
to keep such diaries. Formerly, they were obliged to 
prepare them for themselves ; but now, blank journals 
of this kind are for sale in every bookstore. Evi- 
dently the practice of keeping such journals has 
greatly increased, or there would be no demand for 
such a supply. Is it that men value time now more 
than formerly ? Is it that the historic element of our 
nature is taking a fuller development ? It is evident 
that some periods "and some nations tend more to this 
habit of recording events than others. The ancient 
Egyptians, for example, carved and painted on stone 
all the actions of their lives : so that the traveller to- 




ft 



332 



DIARY OF 1863. 



day can read on walls, built four thousand years ago, 
what men did then every day ; how they hunted and 
fished, and hatched birds by artificial heat, and beauti- 
fied their gardens with summer-houses, flower-stands, 
and vases ; how they kept accounts ; went to ride in 
chariots and litters ; carried parasols to keep off the 
sun ; taught monkeys to hold torches for them at a 
feast; made music on harp, pipe, and drum; antici- 
pated the pirouettes of the modern ballet ; played 
games of checkers ; played with dice, with balls, and 
the like. Thus they wrote down every day on tables 
of stone, moved by some instinct to journalize all 
their life. Other nations did nothing of the sort. 
The Greeks, for example, were so occupied with liv- 
ing, that they could not stop to describe their lives. 
This historic impulse apparently comes as the activity 
of man abates. The greatest men and the greatest 
nations have not been given the most to minute jour- 
nalizing. Mr. Samuel Pepys is like an Egyptian in 
keeping his diary; but who ever saw Shakspeare's 
diary ? It is all in " Hamlet " or " Othello," — nowhere 
else. Men who are thinking the highest thoughts 
and doing the noblest actions do not usually stop to 
record them : they leave it to others to do so. He 
who lived the noblest human life on earth never 
but once, so far as we know, wrote a line ; and that 
line he wrote, not on imperishable stone or perennial 
brass, or even on parchment which may last a thousand 
years, but on the sand : " He stooped down, and wrote 
on the ground." 



DIARY OF 1863. 



333 



But the advantage to most of us of keeping a watch 
over our fleeting days is so great, that I think this 
invention of printed diaries will improve the charac- 
ter of our people. We are active enough, full enough 
of outgoing life : the objective element is sufficiently 
strong ; we need, perhaps, the antagonist tendency to 
balance it. We need to stop, and watch ourselves ; 
to stand still, and consider. Keeping a diary, even of 
outward events, is a good habit for a young person to 
acquire. Better if a little reflection on what we do 
makes a part of our journal. It helps us to keep the 
reins in our hands, and prevents our being swept 
away by events. A record of facts is good : a record 
of ourselves is better. Watch the outward life ; 
but watch the inward life also. 

The modern invention is merely to have the days 
of the week, month, and year printed beforehand ; to 
have places prepared in which to enter every thing* 
But I suppose no one buys such a blank diary with- 
out getting one use out of it which the publisher 
never thought of. Is it not a very serious thing to 
buy a diary of the coming year ; to look forward, and 
make arrangements for three hundred and 'sixty-five 
more days of coming life? Does it not seem pre- 
sumptuous to take this thought beforehand, not for 
the morrow, but for so many morrows ? Shall we live 
to the end of the year? Will not our diary stop 
somewhere in it, and the last part of it remain for ever 
blank ? Some time, it must be so. Some year, our 
diary will end long before the year ends. Will it be 



334 DIARY OF 1863. 

this one ? Such thoughts are wholesome, if not too 
gravely dwelt upon. 

But, beside this diary of life which we keep our- 
selves, there is another diary which God keeps for 
us. Every thing which we do, feel, and think, — all 
acts and all impressions, — are instantly daguerreo- 
typed, as soon as they occur, in those wonderful tablets 
which we call memory. There they are written down, 
and packed away in every man's soul, — a whole 
library written full of past transactions. There are 
the faces of all the people we know, the names of mul- 
titudes more ; the books we have read ; pictures of 
the places we have seen; memories of all the moments, 
sad and bitter, with which our days have been crowd- 
ed. There they are, hidden away perhaps, forgotten 
by the consciousness, but still latent in the memory. 
Some day they will come up again. It seems proba- 
ble that we never really forget any thing. The very 
effort to recollect shows it. We know that the fact is 
in our memory, though we cannot bring it up to clear, 
conscious knowledge. We dive into our memory for 
it, as, by the fragrant coast of Ceylon, men dive for 
Oriental pearls. 'We did not go deep enough this 
time: dive a little deeper, and we shall find it. You 
recollect the story of the servant-girl, who, in her 
fever, began to speak in an unknown language, and 
spoke, hour after hour, with great fluency. At last, 
some one was found who pronounced it to be Hebrew, 
and said that she was reciting chapters out of the 
Hebrew Bible. Then it appeared that she had once 



DIARY OF 1863. 



335 



lived with a clergyman who was in the habit of read- 
ing aloud from his Hebrew Bible. She had heard 
him, though she did not listen. It went into her 
memory below the region of conscious recollection. 
There it remained, latent knowledge, till the excite- 
ment of the fever broke up the habits of thought, 
and this came to the surface. After such a fact as 
that, who shall say that we ever actually and wholly 
forget any thing ? 

When parchment was scarce, it often happened that 
the writing would be erased from a manuscript, and 
something else written over it. This is called a 
palimpsest. But the erasure was only partial ; and, 
as the original book is often more valuable than 
that which is written over it, means have been found 
to recover the underlying manuscript. Thus have 
been recovered some of Cicero's lost works, which 
were erased . in favor of monkish legends. But 
what palimpsest is like the human soul ? This may 
contain innumerable rescripts, one above the other; 
and yet the lowest of all, written in youth, sometimes 
comes out in age the clearest and most distinct of any. 

These diaries of the soul the Apostle Paul speaks 
of, when he says, " Ye are our epistle, written not 
with ink, but with the spirit of the living God ; not in 
tables of stone, but in fleshly tables of the heart." 
Every day, something is written down in the diary of 
the soul. In it events write themselves good and 
evil, joyful or otherwise. What deep impressions are 
made upon it by passing events, of which we are not 



336 



DIARY OF 1863. 



conscious at the time, but the results of which we see 
long after ! As the soldier in the heat of battle may 
receive a sharp cut, and not be conscious of the 
wound at the time, but long afterward it shall pain 
him ; so it is with the events of life. "We carry to 
our grave the scars of wounds received in our child- 
hood. We come out of the battle of life covered 
with these scars, maimed and helpless invalids, vete- 
rans of many a stormy battle. How many mistakes 
we have made, what errors, what follies, what sins ! 
and these are all written down in the diaries of each 
year. The soul of man is the book of judgment for 
him, to be opened on the last day. It is a palimpsest 
in which many things have been written. Sometimes 
a noble and beautiful work is erased, that a worthless 
one may be written over it. But that which seems to 
be erased may still be there ; and, at last, the letters 
may be restored. 

What shall be written during the coming year in 
the diary of the soul? Every day before us is now 
blank, innocent of any evil, empty of any good. At 
the end of the year, the diary will be full. Every 
day will have its mark. The comrng year will be 
better or worse than the last. It is not likely to re- 
main the same. Let us make it better. Let us write 
something good in each day's empty spaces. Let us 
gain some new knowledge each day, do some good 
action each day, receive some good influence from 
God's spirit into our souls each day. 

But, beside what we receive, — the inward diary of 



DIAEY OF 1863. 



337 



the soul, — we keep another by means of what we do. 
All our life goes out of us, and leaves an impression. 
Some years ago, a man of science came to this city, 
and showed some curious experiments allied to mes- 
merism. It appeared from these, that some persons 
of great nervous sensibility were endowed with the 
power of reading the character of a man merely by 
holding in their hands a scrap of his writing. It 
seemed that something of his life went out of him, 
through his pen, into the paper. Who knows ? 
Stranger things than these we know to be true. Is 
not the photograph as strange ? In every photograph 
the face has gone, and left itself on the negative. 
Your face has painted for me your picture. Part of 
yourself is there. Some effluence from your own 
thought, love, life, has come to me, and will stay with 
me in this little mysterious drawing. 

So we write our diaries, — the diaries of the soul. 
What have we written during this past year ? It has 
brought to us an infinite store of life. God has given 
to us all the magnificence of Nature, — his suns and 
storms ; the divine beauty of the long summer day ; 
the exuberance of flowers and foliage ; the changing 
seasons, with all their variety. In all this he has 
come near to us to touch our hearts. Then he has 
sent to us human friendship and love ; he has drawn 
out of us our best thoughts, by teaching us to confide 
in others ; he has sent to us dear little children to 
charm away all that is austere in life by their trust- 
ing, playful tenderness ; he has given to us wise 

22 



338 



DIARY OF 1863. 



friends, who have guided us better than we knew 
ourselves ; he has sent to our souls aspirations, hopes, 
and good purposes. We have all had hours, some 
few at least, during the year, in which life seemed all 
good and fair, heaven around us, and God and his 
angels near at hand. Christ was then as a brother 
and a friend, and perfect love cast out all fear. 

And what if the dark hours returned ? What if we 
found ourselves again lonely and empty, without God 
and hope in the world ? These moods of the scftd are 
like days of storm, like this sharp cold which bites so 
nigh. It sends us back upon ourselves ; teaches us 
to summon our powers, to bear and to wait ; teaches 
endurance, patience, submission. The sun is there 
behind the cloud : God is there behind this desolate 
emptiness of your being. Your friends have left you 
alone ; but whatever was divine in their friendship 
remains. Truth and love never deceive us, never 
depart from us. They seem to go ; but they have not 
gone. When God has once visited the human heart, 
and touched it with holy purpose, with tender peni- 
tence, with earnest aspiration, with self-forgetting 
love, those gifts of his " are without repentance." It 
is impossible for us ever wholly to forget or wholly 
to forsake any really good experience of our soul. 
It is there, covered up, perhaps hidden, beneath the 
ashes left by burning passions, beneath the dust which 
has been drifted over it from worldly pursuits anil 
anxieties ; but it is there. In the heart of the hard- 



DIARY OF 1863. 



339 



ened pirate lingers a tender spot, consecrated to the 
memory of his mother's love. Legree could not help 
shuddering at the floating curl which brought back 
his innocent youth. Good is stronger than evil ; for 
evil passes away, but good remains. " The things 
which are seen are temporal : the things not seen are 
eternal." 

Therefore, if, in the diary of your soul during this 
year, God has written any sincere conviction, any 
moment of pure love, any hour in which you deter- 
mined to live for good ends, any day in which you 
did a kind act for another in the name of Christ, 
these moments, few though they be, are like the im- 
perishable jewels, — the rubies, emeralds, diamonds, 
which men put away in caskets, and hand down as an 
ancestral inheritance from mother to daughter. So 
small, and seemingly so exposed to loss and disaster, 
they are safer than palaces, more permanent posses- 
sions than broad acres. God's love and truth in our 
souls are like the diamonds and Asiatic gems which 
glittered three thousand years ago on the dusky brow 
of Semiramis, and which adorn the fair-haired North- 
ern maiden to-day. 

During this year, God has also taught us to believe 
in heaven. We have seen dear friends pass away ; 
and as we looked at the calm, serene face of death, 
we have followed them into the world beyond with 
our faith and our longing. We have stood by the 
brave young soldier, who, led by the earnest purpose 



340 



DIARY OF 1863. 



of duty, went out from his home, and died as easily 
and sweetly on the bloody field as ever he fell asleep, 
a tired child, in his mother's arms. We have fol- 
lowed to the grave the man of experience, for years 
the energetic man of business, and long the centre 
of great activity, who passed from thence into 
quiet age, as the summer mellows into autumn. We 
have stood by the cradle - coffin of the little boy, 
whose soul, all overflowing with life, seemed made to 
be at home in this world, but who, like little Samuel, 
heard God's voice calling in the night, " Samuel ! " 
and went and stood before God, saying, " Here am 
I ; for thou didst call me." We have seen the 
mother, who, for* long years a helpless invalid, sent 
from her sick-room holy influences of patience and 
sweetness to all that came near ; teaching them the 
realities of life. We have looked on the worn face, 
pallid and faded with long disease, but always cheer- 
ful with an inward peace, of one who would be called 
a saint, if we, in our prosaic churches, gave that name 
to any one. So we have bidden them farewell, one 
by one ; the father, the husband, the mother, the little 
child, the young woman, the noble young hero, — we 
have bidden them all farewell : but as we said, " Go to 
God," a voice in our heart replied, " Till we see each 
other again." 

Every church, this year, has had its diary ; not so 
much, however, of its meetings, its discussions, its 
contributions to good objects, its generous activities, 



DIARY OF 1863. 



341 



its Sunday school and Bible class, or its efforts for 
the poor. But if it is really a church of Christ, then 
it has every year brought Jesus nearer to some souls. 
Some have therein found inward peace and hope ; 
some have been drawn nearer to God and to heaven ; 
others have been led to turn from empty lives to 
generous efforts and earnest aspirations. As I look on 
your faces to-day, I know this is true of some of you ; 
but of whom ? That we do not know now, but shall 
know hereafter. 

History also has kept its diary during the past 
year, and has written in it the most extraordinary 
events. Let us look at some of them. 

When the last year began,* a great battle was ra- 
ging at Murfreesborough ; a battle which lasted four 
days, but ended with the repulse of the rebels. On 
the same day, the President of the United States 
issued his proclamation, declaring all the slaves in the 
rebel Spates free ; an act which was worth more than 
many victorious battles. The President of the Con- 
federacy replied to this by declaring that he would 
give up all United-States officers taken prisoners, to be 
dealt with as criminals; but the threat has never been 
carried out. During the year, we have had the great 
and bloody battles of Chancellors ville (May 1-4), 
Gettysburg (July 1), Chicamauga (Sept. 20), and 
Lookout Mountain. Vicksburg and Port Hudson have 



* Jan. 1, 1863. 



342 



DIARY OF 1863. 



been taken, and the Mississippi opened. East Ten- 
nessee has been occupied, and the attempt to retake 
it defeated. The great policy of enlisting negro 
troops has been begun as an experiment, and is 
already an admitted success. 

This has been a memorable year to our nation. It 
has been our true annus mirabilis. When it began, 
Europe was sure that the Union was destroyed. 
Europe thought the Northern people mad in fighting 
to maintain their national existence and honor. To- 
day Europe has learned to look at us with different 
eyes. She begins to see to-day that we have a 
determined purpose, and that this must conquer. 
She sees the Rebellion split into three great frag- 
ments, — the United States in the very heart of it ; 
its finances broken down by the stringency of our 
blockade, the slaves emancipated, and slavery virtu- 
ally at an end. She sees the freedmen industriously 
laboring, or courageously fighting on the sidfl> of the 
Union • the Border States on the point of emancipat- 
ing their slaves by law; great Southern cities like 
St. Louis, Nashville, Baltimore, New Orleans, clamor- 
ing for immediate emancipation. This year has been 
the turning-point in our history. God and the angels 
have looked upon us, and said, " You are a nation fit 
to be free ; fit to become the leading republic of the 
world ; fit to inaugurate the Christian democracy 
which is to come." 

God be thanked for it all ! God be thanked for our 



DIARY OF 1863. 



343 



countsy's noble diary during the past year ! God be 
thanked for the wisdom higher than our own which 
has guided our counsels ; for the firmness which has 
led our soldiers to stand against reverses in the field, 
and mistakes in the cabinet ! God be thanked, espe- 
cially, that this year has seen the downfall of a pre- 
judice no less fatal to our own prosperity than 
hateful in the sight of God and man ! The disgraceful 
riots in New York were like the rending of the pos- 
sessed man by the evil spirit, before it took its final 
departure. When the Fifty-fourth Massachusetts 
Regiment, colored troops, went through Boston on 
Anniversary Week, and we looked in their serious 
faces, we felt in our souls that the crisis had come. 
When they stormed the bloody intrenchments of Fort 
Wagner, then we knew that the lives laid down there 
had set the seal to the regeneration of a race. 

Blessed be God, then, for this year ; for all its joy 
and all its sorrow ; for its triumph and its disaster *. 
for its hours when love and truth came to our hearts ; 
for its hours when our hearts seemed empty and deso- 
late ! Let us bless him for it all ; for all is good. 

And now let me make some suggestions in regard 
to the improvement to be made of the year which is 
before us. In offering them to you, I also offer 
them to myself. The suggestions which suit one 
will suit all. 

The first maxim which I offer to you and to myself 
is, that we should try to do some one good thing every 



344 



DIAKY OP 1863. 



day. Let us, every day in the year, do some kind 
act, or speak some one kind word. Help somebody ; 
comfort some one. Do not wait till you can do some 
great thing, but do some little thing. Condescend to 
men of low estate, and to things of little consequence. 
Be faithful in few things. The probability is, that, 
if you propose to yourself to do a single good action 
each day, you will do more than one. While looking 
for one, you will see another. But do something. If 
your motive is to do good, that motive will glorify 
the most trivial action, and make it important. 

The next maxim which I offer to you is, that you 
should do every thing as serving Christ. The essence 
of Christianity is amazingly simple, though it has 
been thought mysterious. Jesus says, " Follow me : " 
that is the whole of it. Christ desires that the same 
thing shall be done in the world now which he did 
himself. He wishes the blind to see, the lame to 
walk, the sick to be visited, the strangers to be taken 
in, the hungry to be fed, the prisoners to be cared 
for, the poor to have the gospel preached to them. 
When we are doing these things, we have a right to 
feel that we are serving him. " Repentance," " con- 
version," " regeneration," " coming to Jesus," are all 
included in the simple act of doing any thing in his 
name. If you wish to come to Jesus, you will find 
him in the first little child whom you meet, and whom 
you can help in any way. Christ is not in heaven, 
that we should say, " Who shall go up to heaven, and 



DIARY OF 1863. 



345 



i bring him to us ?" nor beyond the sea, that we should 
say, "Who shall go over the sea, and find him for 
us ? " but he is very nigh to us. He *s in the next 
street, in that sick man's chamber, in the jail with 
that prisoner. He came to y outdoor this morning 
with that poor boy who wanted a warm coat. While 
you are visiting these in his name, and for his sake, 
you find him. We are like the disciples on their 
way, to Emmaus. Jesus walks with us, and our heart 
burns within us with a sense of his presence ; but. 
our eyes are holden, that we do not know him. 

The third maxim is, to have some plan for our spirit- 
ual and moral life, and arrange each day accordingly. 
Let the plan be simple, so as to be practicable. Do 
not attempt too much ; but, having formed a plan, 
keep to it. Shakspeare says, — 

" Stick to your journal-course. The breach of custom 
Is breach of all." 

Eegularity and perseverance are just as important 
in the care of the soul as in the care of material inte- 
rests. Character can only be formed as cotton is 
manufactured. You have a building where the bales 
are taken in at the basement, and the cotton is picked 
apart, and cleaned. It is taken up one flight of stairs, 
and carded ; it is taken up another flight, and spun ; 
it is taken up another, and woven. Every working- 
day in the year, the bells ring at a certain hour for 
work; and, at a certain hour, to finish the work. 



346 



DIARY OP 1863. 



Without this regularity, there would be no profits. 
Paul describes the training of gladiators : " Every 
man that strive th for the mastery is temperate in all 
things : but they do it to obtain a crown of oak-leaves, 
which will fade ; buj; we, one which will never fade." 

The most brutal prize-fighter knows that he must 
lead a strictly temperate life, and be a perfectly vir- 
tuous man, if he wishes to win the purse. He must 
keep under his body, and bring it into subjection* 

That life only is worth living which is devoted to 
some lofty aim. All our lives may be so devoted. 
But it is not enough to have a high aim: we must 
also have practical methods. It is melancholy to see 
persons, sincerely desiring improvement, with good 
purpose, and the best intentions, wasting their lives 
for want of some practical method. Have a plan, 
then, and keep to it. What you have to do, do at 
once. Finish every thing, and so have the joy which 
only comes with accomplishment. 

But as every good thing has an opposite good 
thing to balance it, without which it is imperfect ; so 
plan is imperfect, unless married to its opposite, in- 
spiration. With plan alone, life becomes too mechan- 
ical, and we tire of its routine. My fourth maxim, 
then, is, have faith in inspiration. Believe that Grod 
is ever present in your soul, to inspire you for each 
duty, and to change routine and drudgery into life 
and love. While undertaking any thing, look up for 
a moment, and open your hearts to God. This is 



DIARY OF 1863. 



347 



prayer. Essentially there is no other prayer than 
this, — to look up to God for strength with which to 
do God's work. As the flowers lift their cups to the 
sunshine, and the trees hold up their multitudinous 
leaves to the driving summer shower ; so the human 
heart must evermore lift itself to God for strength, 
insight, and love. This is the daily bread of the soul, 
without which life becomes very meagre and poor. 
The human heart is never, indeed, without God. In 
a total eclipse of the sun,*at the moment of entire 
darkness, when the last bead of light is cut off by the 
interposing planet, a corona of rays bursts out, en- 
circling the moon, and indicating the place in the 
darkened sky where the sun is hidden. So, in that 
atheistic mind which is most without God, there are 
still some Ays of a higher than earthly glory, indi- 
cating the place in the soul where God is hidden. 
But how joyful the moment when the unnatural 
eclipse is over ; when the sudden sunbeam, shooting 
from the midst of the heavens, re-awakens the blessed 
noon ; when the birds begin again to sing, the in- 
sects spring again from the ground, the cattle lift 
their drooping heads, Nature puts on her robes of 
color, the little hills rejoice on every side, and the 
lively din of the cock scatters the thin rear of dark- 
ness ! With equal joy does the soul receive God 
again, after its dark eclipse of sin, of ignorance, or of 
unbelief. When we believe in the inspiration of God, 
it comes with equal blessing to the heart in all its 



348 



DIARY OF 1863. 



states. In our summer hours, — when we are glad 
and happy and hopeful, when the soul is covered with 
leaves and flowers, — God's blessing falls like theylew 
and the rain, feeding the roots of our life, and making 
it bring forth and bud more abundantly. And in its 
wintry moments of sorrow or remorse, in our hours 
of disappointment and failure, when tormented with 
the sense of sin, God's blessing falls, like the soft 
snow of last week, covering the dark earth with 
its charitable mantle, and adding a fairy beauty to 
the bare branches and gray forests. The forgiving 
love of God hides our sins as this fair sheet of snow 
covers the cold earth. 



t 



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